Wood gave the required promise, though he could not help thinking that if either of them had cause to be jealous he was the party. The evenings were dulcet and soft. She lunged without warning again, and Gosse, just catching her blade on his own, was obliged to retreat backwards up the little stair. ‘Silence,’ hissed a voice in French. ‘Gerald Alderley, I don’t know what you deserve. “It’s like this,” he said, and dragged a stool beside her and sat down with his elbow four inches from hers and made a sketch. D'ye hear. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. She moved her elbow nearer to him and spoke in a still lower tone. I thank God for His sunlight on your face. I am your very dutiful niece, aunt, and your most devoted sister, Annabel. And if you mean that he may have reconciled himself with his own father, you waste your breath.
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