As she came close, he took a pace forward and seized her from behind, one strong arm clamping her tight against his chest, the free hand seizing her about the mouth, stifling the cry that gurgled in her throat. But she had loved the man. ‘The credentials, milor’,’ he ventured. She had very frizzy hair indeed, very black eyebrows, a profusion of metallic adornments about her neck and waist, and an engaging smile. “Do not be frightened, dear,” she said. She thought of how much she wanted to eat the foods she had once feasted on that now smelled as innocuous as spring flowers.
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