Jenny: A Use of Pure Reason

There was a hard, tentative knock at the door. Champion bristled his nap-feathers a moment, looking round. You have a visitor.

"So it would seem," murmured Ambrosius. He knew intuitively that it was not Portia or Lucretia come to ask if he wanted anything, nor Master Lucius, whose vanguard was the unassuming, brisk Wulf. Someone who did not know him well, someone who was still uncertain of himself, someone with a large fist. "Come in, Cathair," he called.