Instead, he could not get beyond these minor details—why she wore the dress, whence she had come, and whither she was bound. She traced him by his scent. He wiped the sweat from his chin and forehead. There were mysterious sounds, all of them musical. A pretty name for a pretty girl. Wild," he added, laughing, "it must be a stronger prison than Willesden cage that can hold me. It was just such a bedroom as she would have chosen for herself. ‘Have you any more pretty toys like that knife about you?’ ‘The girl’s a regular arsenal,’ Hilary snapped, giving up into his senior’s hand the nasty little weapon he had snatched.
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