“I reckon,” she agrees, with a shiver as she forces aside the memory of her aunt’s hate-twisted face to focus on her father’s instead.

The issue of the water presents a useful distraction. She’s certain he’d strain himself trying in his kindness, and equally certain that she’d not do anything to hurt his pride. “Mayhap if ye could fetch some clean cloths from the Bar instead?” she suggests. Surely that won’t take long, and it’ll let her get settled with the water. “I’d take it as a great kindness, an’ye would.”