‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. But one must disguise oneself. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. Bold women certainly existed in the Middle Ages--Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales is evidence of this--but meek women were probably the norm, good Christian family ladies who wanted nothing more than to serve God and have children. What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest.
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