” 162 “Mmmm-hmmm. . ’ ‘Why should you care?’ demanded Roding, exasperated. Her cheeks were aflame. "No, I tell you," rejoined Jonathan, shouldering his way out of the crowd. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. " Jack was about to comply with the request, when an unlooked-for interruption occurred. His glance came up again and met hers. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. "But don't ever let me see them again. He's on the ragged edge.
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