I tell you this child would have been strangled. But one changes the style of one's clothes yearly. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. Hopefully. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. But it annoyed Ann Veronica. There was hope for me then. She climbed slowly towards it, keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding her skirts high above the dew-laden grass.
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