But you could have just as easily lost your womb in the Pestilence, and your life. “No, no,” she cried. For the first time he seemed to wonder what it might be that she had to confess. Flattened flowers aren’t for the likes of us. Her gaze flickered down to his pistol. Charity for the ragtag and the bobtail of the Seven Seas, and none for his own flesh and blood. His face warm, Captain Roding glared them into silence, and firmly marched his captive off down Piccadilly, heading for Stratton Street where the town house of the Alderley family was situated. She shut the door behind her.
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