” “Why?” she asked. Spurlock was no longer a man before this instinct; he was a child in trouble. Girls erupted in waves of whispering as soon as she passed them by. “I don’t see what he has to do with my coming to London?” “He—he worships the ground you tread on. “Where are they?” She looked around. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. This mitigated her remorse enormously. He had no use for Ann Veronica; he had never had a use for her since she had been too old to sit upon his knee. “Do you need me to tell you? You have tasted the luxury of power.
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