[At the mention of bones... Faith can only shudder, pulling her arms around her as if to fight a chill. Still, she does listen to what he's saying. A privateer, she tells herself, desperate to believe it. A man not in the Navy but flying under England's flag. Not a pirate.

Not...

She smiles and nods at the clothing shop, now right beside the door.]

Here you are, sir. I can't promise that your clothes will be in there, but they ought to be soon, I believe. And you should be able to find something that will do in the meantime.