Geoffrey Condit
“ Robin Nesbit shifted the mass of angels and half-royals coins into the poor box at the church door. Lips tight, he let his open impatience and anger into his voice. “You are very generous, Mistress Kelforth. The poor are ever in need of the care of the more fortunate.” He held the front door open, and Catharine stepped out into the harsh sounds and pungent smells of the city. The bustling carts, horses, and people moved like a restless serpent below them.
“Until tomorrow then, ...Father Nesbit.” Catharine turned and raising her skirts, tripped down the stairs, and climbed into a well-attended horse litter. She knocked on the wall, shifting on the cushioned seat when the litter jerked into motion.
She wiped the thick makeup from her nose, cheeks, and chin, and lips. Then tugging off the massive black wig, she heaved a sigh of nervous laughter. “God-a-mercy, if there is penitence to be paid, Robin Nesbit certainly gone the limit. He’ll never be the same after the things I said about my husbands.”MoreLess
“Until tomorrow then, ...Father Nesbit.” Catharine turned and raising her skirts, tripped down the stairs, and climbed into a well-attended horse litter. She knocked on the wall, shifting on the cushioned seat when the litter jerked into motion.
She wiped the thick makeup from her nose, cheeks, and chin, and lips. Then tugging off the massive black wig, she heaved a sigh of nervous laughter. “God-a-mercy, if there is penitence to be paid, Robin Nesbit certainly gone the limit. He’ll never be the same after the things I said about my husbands.”MoreLess
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