His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. The latch came with a weak click. ’ Lucilla frowned. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. She could still feel his psychic presence all around her, and she knew he was thinking of her. “Nevertheless,” Hill said doggedly, “I am here to speak to you alone. But where in the world was the girl? A door led to another chamber beyond. It was now a quarter past twelve. But a middle-aged man like Ramage ought to know better than to draw out a girl, the daughter of a friend and neighbor.
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