At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. I didn't understand then, but I do now. Ramage pursed his rather loose lips and shrugged his shoulders, with his eyes fixed steadily upon her. This accident rather confirms than checks my purpose. Mr. ‘Is he meeting you here then, my dear?’ ‘He had better,’ said Lucilla.
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