Doing No Harm
“she asked, after he had wiped wet leaves off the bench and she seated herself.
“A broad question,” he began, smiling a little, until he saw how serious she was. “Not much. I am from East Anglia—Norfolk—and my father was a cooper. I went to sea at twelve years, and my life has been taken up with war ever since.”
She gave him a look of great compassion, which made him wonder if Olive Grant’s role in life was to do battle with all the evil in the world. He knew that was impossible, but something in her expression assured him that she was going to spend her life trying.
“Olive, I am fine,” he assured her.
“No, you are not,” she said just as promptly. “Are you even aware that I have been in your room every night since you arrived and put my hand on your shoulder until you are quiet again?”
He felt his face go hot. “I remember the first night. I do apologize.”
“No need,” she said. “What control can you possibly have over your mind when you sleep? Don’t tell me tales, Douglas Bowden.
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