Michelle was on her like a fly, asking her questions about her past foster homes she did her best to avoid, pretending to be swamped every night with sudden reams of homework and unable to be reached by phone. ‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’ ‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to fathom. Her pa was only the smithy. I wanted to speak to you first. “It’s very good,” she said. “My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. She had slept badly at first in a long chair next to the fire waiting for him to return, but caught on after that. \"Do not tell me that you have not asked her yet, fool, or I will be forced to dump the rest of that soda over your head.
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