““The . . . the one about Colin Eversea! I learned a new verse from a young lady at school. It’s very funny and . . . and . . . bawdy.” That last word was a reckless inspiration. She presented it almost defiantly. Lisbeth blinked as though she’d flicked water into her eyes. Lisbeth and Waterburn eyed her for a silent nonplussed instant. A finch peeped somewhere in the hedgerows. Apparently it wasn’t a word anyone associated with her, or particularly wanted to associate with her, judging from the carefully bland expression on Waterburn’s face. Next I’ll try the word whore in a sentence, she thought wildly.””
