? ? ? ? ??You want some more, cunt??? He said, reaching down for her.??? ? ? ? ?She recoiled and tried to crawl backwards.? He caught hold of her hair...and dragged her a foot back to where she'd started.? Margaret took hold of his hand, trying desperately to keep the front of her hair attached to her head.? ? ? ? ??That's enough, Smith!?? Another man called, walking up and stopping him.? Margaret sighed with relief as the first man let go of her hair.? ?You can't be so rough with 'em.? What if. It was perhaps an hour before sunset.June was easy to find. She was sitting on a stump watching three young soldiers put up a small tent. She was wearing black boots and long, white breeches that buttoned down the sides and disappeared into them. She had on a patterned wool shirt like mine and a grenadier jacket with the sleeves turned back. Her soft hair was plaited and rolled up onto the back of her head. She looked happy and perhaps a stone heavier than the last time I had seen her.I sat. More

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