Sheila bellowed, a great wail of a sound from deep in her belly, flinging her tremendous weight towards him. At last, she breathed. The brilliant sunshine poured through the window, effecting an oblong block of mote-swimming light. ‘You know perfectly well that she is the daughter of the Comtesse de St Erme. But to draw the attention of the milice, no, that is not at all desirable. The point is, I know all the tricks in finding a man. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go.
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