’ ‘I’m that sorry, miss,’ Kimble said glumly. Presently he caught her puzzled glance, and recollected himself, turning on the charm again. “Concern me!” she repeated fiercely. ‘And I don’t mind telling you it goes agin’ the grain with me to let you go free and all, missie. I don’t idealize you. The Idle Apprentice. ’ ‘Gosse,’ corrected Lucilla. His anger gave way to grim humour and he thrust towards them, leaning heavily on his cane. Why, then, did he touch it? As he climbed heavily into his chair, she was able to note the little beads of sweat under the cracked nether lip. “It’s not.
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