The one problem was that it didn’t fly. Her head was downcast as she studied the museum-like exhibits of various dusts on the resilient tile flooring. "I declare you throw me into an ague. In order to make Mr. ’ She tried to shake his hands off her wrists, but Gerald held them fast and tutted at her. At the least, the tales had the ability to make her forget where she was; which was something in their favour. The air might be cool, but half an hour without head-gear was an invitation to sunstroke. "What say you to carrying her off, Captain?" suggested Blueskin.
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