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“For Beloved's sake, try to keep track of your bonnet,' Clent broke out at last. He pulled Mosca's bonnet from a chair and dropped it on to her head. 'Running around bare-headed like a ragamuffin...' His voice trailed off. 'You'll need to find somebody else to tell you when your plans are bleedin' stupid,' Mosca said gruffly. 'Not that you ever listen to me when I do.' 'How I shall survive without the perpetual barbs of your conversation I cannot imagine,' mused Clent with a little frown, as he set Mosca's bonnet straight.” — Frances Hardinge
For Beloved's sake, try to keep track of your bonnet,' Clent broke out at last. He pulled Mosca's bonnet from a chair and dropped it on to her head. 'Running around bare-headed like a ragamuffin...' His voice trailed off.
'You'll need to find somebody else to tell you when your plans are bleedin' stupid,' Mosca said gruffly. 'Not that you ever listen to me when I do.'
'How I shall survive without the perpetual barbs of your conversation I cannot imagine,' mused Clent with a little frown, as he set Mosca's bonnet straight.