Anna was suddenly very quiet. That boy was the carpenter's apprentice, Jack Sheppard. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. “A confusion of motives—that’s what I am!. While there's life there's hope. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. "But what does he mean by calling you a wanton? —you, my wife?" Enschede's hand slipped from his daughter's shoulder. They sat in the front row. Her pa was only the smithy. She looked at him mournfully.
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