And she would have to go tomorrow. She tossed her head, and, having no further words, moved toward the door. ” Lucy commented as the mud was smoothed around the grave site. ‘It does not matter, Jacques. Enough's as good as a feast of the dainties you provide. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. When she awoke from a pleasant dream an hour later, she was shocked to find herself restrained in a bed that was not hers and not the inn’s. In lieu of the substantial habitations which he had gazed on overnight, he beheld a row of falling scaffoldings, for such they seemed.
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