She bolted upright as she heard footsteps rumble towards the door, cursing UPS for being so damn persistent in such foul weather. Her defence ceased rapidly to be in any sense ladylike, and became vigorous and effective; a strand of black hair that had escaped its hairpins came athwart Ramage’s eyes, and then the knuckles of a small but very hardly clinched fist had thrust itself with extreme effectiveness and painfulness under his jawbone and ear. “It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning. "Your health, Kneebone. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school.
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