‘Never trust a gun in female hands,’ grumbled Hilary, dropping the nun’s habit and backing to join his friend. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. The proa bore away to the northwest out of which it had come. Anna’s face however was wholly impassive. Spare me yet a little while, Father! not for my own sake, but for the sake of this poor babe. ” He crossed himself and grinned. Supposing you take them and read them? You might be able to tell me why I felt disappointed. ” “You’d like to do that?” “Exactly. ” “Please go then, Mr.
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