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“Yes,” she answered, looking away. It was horrible, but what could she do? She meant to live her own life, and he meant, with contempt and insults, to prevent her. All along the wooden benches before it sat a profusion of soldiery, a collection of barbers in attendance, busily employed in replaiting and powdering their hair ready for a military review scheduled for this afternoon. Was it a week ago? No, perhaps more. There was just time for the girl to raise her arm to chest height and draw it back before Roding seized her. She was quite assured that she would never see him again. Above the housetops it was different. ’ She ended on a note of sheer frustration, clenched fists beating the air. And experience was slow in coming. You will be with me.
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