“Poor Neil,” she murmured. “But that’s for him to take care of, isn’t it?”
“I see it is.” She felt him shiver, but misinterpreted it.
“Happy?” she asked.
“The Devil has that reputation.”
He felt her take alarm again, with a defensive stiffening. She laughed shakily.
“Naughty boy! You’re being sarcastic.”
“Am I?”
Suddenly, Romany sprang away from him and stood trembling from head to foot, and chattering with uncontrolled and unexpected rage.
“You are go-go-going to tell.” She stuttered feverishly. “You are going to tell on all of us. You r-really mean it. Don’t you? D-don’t you?”
“Ah, you’ve figured it out, have you? Yes, I’m telling. How often must I say it to get it through your pretty head?”