"I didn't carry you off from old Wood to kill you, but to wed you. The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. ‘Beg pardon, miss, but I’m told as how—’ She broke off, her eyes widening, her jaw dropping open. ‘All these soldiers,’ she complained, adding with a sweep of one arm at the major’s dress, ‘all of them in red as you. And we won’t make it so. I need scarcely ask whether you've executed your appointed task, my dear? You're never behindhand. ‘But a week and some days,’ answered Valade. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. The delay was only momentary. ‘Can I not leave you for a day without you getting yourself into trouble?’ ‘Imbecile,’ she uttered faintly. The distinction lay chiefly in the right to pat their heads.
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