She understood. I’m a man, and I know what I mean. A sob was strangled in her throat. "Leave him to me," he said. The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak. ‘But I ain’t been idle, miss, I swear it. He had the appearance of a man who has known no rest for many nights. ’ Quick anger flared, surpassing the fluttering hope.
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