Then she spoke, with a carelessness he instantly suspected. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. ‘Me, I have a name. Swinging her arm in an arc, she let go of the foil and it flew across the chapel towards the main door, crashing down between the pews, and clattering onto the floor. what’s your name again?” He asked. ’ ‘Then you’re mad,’ Roding said flatly, and suddenly grinned. Couldn’t face me with what he’d done, the miserable blackguard. It was his tall stance and his pale skin that drew him out of the crowd.
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