Rhea laughed and lunged for the broadsword that Sebastian had carelessly left lying on the ground. Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it. Gossip was the driving force in Sheila’s existence. . There was—a service. ‘That’s wicked, that is. "If I had my old tools with me, we'd soon master this obstacle," he muttered.
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