“But how can you?” asked Constance. Not with the unavoidable explanations, and the need to secrete the sword and hide it before returning the priest’s horse to its stable—which had been her excuse for running from Martha’s protestations. There was little fighting spirit here. The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible. As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. Herculis was surrounded by an archipelago, which local chroniclers had claimed was teeming with mermaids. ‘And I trust you will pardon my inadequacies. A woman may choose any one for her lover, but for her friend she makes no mistake.
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