"What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. Probably he has something to say and can't say it, or he writes well about nothing. ‘What do you say of these troops?’ ‘You see, we’re militia. It would be difficult to find another human being subjected to so many angles of attack as Spurlock. So was I, in fact. The signs of tears had all gone, but some subtle change seemed to have stolen into her face. She could feel her face turning beet red. For a few minutes he kept them at bay. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear.
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