Mevrouw Rosamund looked less than her fifty-six years and I had the impression of nobility in her upbringing, but of course I did not like to ask.Five...feet six inches in height, she was a slim woman of regal posture and well-cut features. She always wore her honey-gold hair piled up in permanent waves, the style being reminiscent of the inter-war period. Her eyes were pale blue, puckered at the corners by crows' feet and wrinkles from so much smiling. Her lips formed a delicate line which. ”She interrupted, “ ... Yeah, it indicates that this fucking piece of metal through my leg has compromised the vascular system of my leg. That also means that you can’t just pull me off this fucking piece of metal... ”It was my turn to interrupt, “ ... Because if I do you will likely bleed to death.”I admired her when she forced a smile and said, “Well unless we have a torch to cut the metal, I guess I’m fucked.”I began to quickly think, then I smiled at her and said, “Ms., I don’t have a. More

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