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Midden, my lord general. Kitchen midden, Tobias gripped a fistful of her colored rags. Midden? You left them at a midden heap? She grinned as she waddled along.
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It was the same disturbing darkness she had seen that late afternoon years before when he had risen from beneath the water of the pool in Diana's Garden where she had held him as the air had leaked out of him.
He wished he'd knocked his head right off. Calling him those names! Bastard, was he? Mad, was he? Simple, eh? That fat Cockney with his stupid tattoos and his jocular manner and his dirty jokes he should have dumped him in the canal!