Perhaps Worke, like the other clerk, would take her at her seeming and believe her to be a man. If he saw through the imposture perhaps he would not immediately know her for the woman he had twice attacked. But the big man was more observant than that; she saw as if it were drawn on his face his apprehension of who stood before him. Miss Tolerance put her hand on the hilt of her sword.Worke licked his lips. “Look what we’ve here.” His voice was soft. “Go on back to the books, Abel. I’ll see to the guest.”Abel, looking from Worke to Miss Tolerance and back, withered visibly. He was clearly familiar with Worke in this humor and wanted no part of it. He circled Worke with a palsied shuffle and disappeared into the outer office, the door half closed behind him.Keefe or Bart had done some damage to Worke earlier. The flesh below one eye was plummy and swollen, and a cut had scabbed over by his ear. Miss Tolerance judged it best to pretend the fight had never occurred. “Will Mr.
