And yet, the doctor recalled an expression of the girl's: that it was not a dissipated face, only troubled. The sergeant had not seen it for he understood nothing of what she told him. Her stomach growled, and she clutched at it in reaction, haphazardly observing that the gown had been changed to silk. She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. Blueskin and the Minters were dragging Wood to the pump. If I could but——” To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat.
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