"I can't say I do," replied Wood. Marina gently passed the swaddled infant to his mother, who sat down on the bed proudly to nurse the baby, extracting a fat breast from her heavy gown. "I dare not, Rowland," she answered. He could not contain his satisfaction, but chuckled, and rubbed his hands with delight. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. "You open it, Ruth. We’ll make short work of them. “Just the box only. The jealous burn at his eyes subsided and his finger came up. "Hear me, Sir Rowland!" he cried. ” “Why do you think so?” she asked.
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