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She began to draw on her gloves thoughtfully. “You are afraid,” she said, “that the young man who thinks that he is my husband has upset me. And a right set-to there were betwixt him and Mr Jarvis, I can tell you. If only he had known it, sympathy was almost entirely with him. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. Not Trodger. His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad. And I don't want anything of yours destroyed, Hoddy. Flattened flowers aren’t for the likes of us. . He carried a small bag.
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