She is a stranger to you. We WERE thieves. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. ‘I’m a soldier, missie. The beautiful gowns and the flashing bare shoulders and arms of the women had disturbed and distressed her. This was not the sort of confession which he had been expecting. There he paused again, half turning his back and pretending to look for someone among the soldiers on the benches. A cat came and rubbed herself against him as he entered the house, and seemed by her mewing to ask him for food. In a very definite sense we are in the wrong —hopelessly in the wrong. And she had not dressed herself in this habit of a blue so much like the sky just for his sake, no matter that Lucy had said how much this colour suited with her eyes.
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