Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine. She’d prefer that I read classic literature, of course, but she only reads paperback romance novels, so she can’t exactly complain. ’ Then he bowed, raising his hat in salute and, crossing to the coach, spoke briefly to its driver and leapt into it without looking back. She played “Happy Birthday” for John, after which they plied her with a dozen requests. He had “put his foot down,” and said she must not go. The knight, who could ill brook this familiarity, instantly arose.
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