But perhaps if people didn’t like clear, bright, healthy eyes—which is biologically understandable—they couldn’t like precious stones. Lucy's grin faded. “What has he to do with it?” “He was your sister’s master—her friend. Emile’s fist crashed into her temple and stars exploded in her vision. The pause lengthened, and he had the satisfaction of seeing despair melt the set mockery of Spurlock's mouth. She longed to allow him to kiss her again, to touch her again. But at length, there was a click, and with a swish, the panel of painted books swung outward from the wall. Hang the wench! Roding was right. The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square.
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