Her hormones were raging stupidly. “For my part I can see no difference in any of these French girls who come over here with their demure manner and atrocious songs. She said that your mother was only fifteen when she went to live with them. ’ ‘Your husband?’ Gerald tutted. I—I am a lovesick idiot, and not accountable for my actions. The phone did not ring. At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. ” “I am staying,” she answered coolly, “at a small boarding-house near Russell Square. You would want me to be clean, if you gave me a thought, that is. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. Did he intend to kill her now, this instant? Or had she a moment or two to try to save herself? Recalling Leonardo’s dictum, she did not struggle, for that would only tighten the trap about her, and perhaps even spring it.
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