“My dear fellow, money is no substitute for the right kind of friend . . .”

“My dear fellow," he continued more soberly, "If you have managed to complicate things by forming a sentimental attachment in less than a week, then I doubt there is anything I can do for you. You, sir, are a romantic, and I suspect your condition is incurable.”

“Oh, Neverfell, you’re just not made for undercover work. You can’t lie, my dear, and I can. Leave Madame Appeline and the Doldrums to me. Stay here and keep your head down.”

“Thank you," she whispered. "I promise I will not interfere in Court business again.""Oh yes, you will."Zouelle looked up to see her uncle regarding her with a sad little smile. "You decided that you were ready to start meddling in the great game. I really hope you were right, Zouelle, because once you start playing it you can never leave. You are in the game now, my dear. There is no going back.”

“She’s one of my best friends, thought Neverfell, and most of the time I don’t know what is going on in her head at all.”

“My business in the Capital is concluded,’ Tamarind explained. ‘Kindly send a letter to Mr Kohlrabi’s lodgings, telling him that I require his presence as soon as he is back in the city, then bring me a dish of tea, the latest issue of the Gazette and a bag of dead cats.”

“It was all very well being told that she could do nothing to make things better. Neverfell did not have the kind of mind that could take that quietly. She did not have the kind of mind that could be quiet at all.”