It felt too good. She must weigh her situation. Lucy stole her last chance to observe Martin Chen, looking provocatively into his 257 eyes as the door was shut. He had thought it might have that effect. If Winifred remained silent, her looks would have disarmed a person of less assurance than the woollen-draper. She discovered him sitting upon the floor beside his open trunk. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. ‘Then mayhap this will persuade you!’ With a scrape of steel, he drew his sword from its scabbard.
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