“Stripping the peacock feathers from Martin’s arrows, she fletched them with far more sensible ones of goose. She didn’t approve of his reason for learning to use the bow, but if it was that important to Martin, she might as well do what she could to help. It wasn’t as though she had anything else to occupy her this evening other than watching Meg flit restlessly about the bedchamber. Meg usually had her nose buried in a book or badgered Cat for more tales of Ireland at bedtime. It was not the g...irl’s habit to be so restive, but Meg had not been herself. At the supper table, she had fidgeted in her seat, toying with the food on her plate, which she had scarce tasted. Martin was usually able to jest and tease Meg out of her solemn humors, but he had been too distracted. Cat had frequently observed such edginess in Martin when he was about to disappear on one of his mysterious nighttime errands. His excuse this evening had been a flimsy one. He needed to meet with Master Roxburgh to go over some accounts for the Crown Theatre.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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