“Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. ‘Have you any more pretty toys like that knife about you?’ ‘The girl’s a regular arsenal,’ Hilary snapped, giving up into his senior’s hand the nasty little weapon he had snatched. Or perhaps my father once. ” He shook her diminutive hand. Ramage admitted the force of that. But she made no answer. “I don’t see,” gasped Ann Veronica, “why parents and children. It was bleeding again.
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