She was a lone white woman, therefore marked. ’ ‘Lord, yes,’ agreed Gerald, in mock horror. Montague Hill?” Annabel put her hand suddenly to her throat and steadied herself with the back of a chair. “The surgeon’s knife is surely a kindly weapon,” she declared. It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat. Quite soon, after we were married—it was just within a year—I formed a friendship with the wife of a friend, a woman eight years older than myself. Her pulses began to race. You are to come home. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. The next minute, I contrived, without either of 'em perceiving me, to convey it into my own pocket. Horrible doubts assailed her. ‘Oh, Lord,’ muttered Gerald, going instantly to her aid.
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