Nor did I want anyone to fix my features in their mind, in case an inquiry into Master Rattle’s missing servant were made. So I tucked my chin into my chest and stepped into the street, eyes cast down. It was for this reason that I did not see the portly woman crossing before me until it was too late, and I collided with her. She let out a small cry and tumbled to the street, spilling large radishes from a basket. For my part, I fell across her, and the two of us struggled upon the ground. It must have been a comical sight, for a couple of red-faced gentlemen and a member of the clergy laughed heartily as they stepped over us. I got as far as my knees, a string of regrettable words prepared for utterance just behind my teeth. I had no patience left. “Why did you not look—” I began, but the words perished on my lips when the woman’s hood fell back and I beheld her face. A good woman is no less good for suffering some deformity, and I’ll credit myself for not judging people on that score—I’ve known many a handsome face behind which lurked an unattractive soul.
What do You think about The Accidental Highwayman?
