“Anyway, enough about that. When he had finishing feeding and burping, Isobella asked her, “Would you like to hold him?” Lucia nodded yes eagerly. For a long time he remained standing before the fire, staring at the situation. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. Let him be sure. . He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. Wood, you shan't lord it over me, I can promise you. I didn’t ought to have sent for him. Dese ere not schouts, as you faind, but jonkers on a vrolyk; and if dey'd chanshed to keel de vrow Sheppard's pet lamb, dey'd have done her a servish, by shaving it from dat unpleasant complaint, de hempen fever, with which its laatter days are threatened, and of which its poor vader died.
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