His reputation was slightly tainted by his marriage to her mother, an exotic blue-eyed raven-haired beauty, a Gypsy doll with a clandestine heritage. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. “I forbid it!” she said firmly. She was quite the rage, in a small way, you know. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent. At the cost of quite a number of torn drafts she succeeded in evolving this: “DEAR MR. There were perches inside where she could crouch and labyrinths underneath where she could hide.
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