She stood among them, watching them and feeling curiously alien to them. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. ’ She spoke with difficulty, holding down the rising emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. . The soldiers surrounded the cart, drew their swords, and by striking the rioters first with the blunt edge of their blades, and afterwards with the sharp points, succeeded in driving them back. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less.
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