Only I wish that it did not remind one so much of a second-hand clothes shop. Trenchard glanced at the document. “My friend,” she said, “I have been your pupil for two years. She had always had a wonderful ear for phrasing, even back in the days of the viol. “Please, Michelle, let’s not fight. But, this sad affair disposed of, I will not rest till I have avenged my murdered parents. You need fear no interruption from him, or any of his myrmidons. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed.
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