Outside the door stood one of the soldiers. The face that looked down upon Ann Veronica was full of amiable intention. ‘Civilian peace-keeping forces, you know. “David,” she said, “you are not a coward, are you?” “I do not know,” he muttered. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. She bathed frequently with ash and lye soap stolen from traders. And I'll have supper with you. Let me lend you some money. Once more breaking through the hedge he took to the fields. Sir John stood upon the threshold.
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