If you know her for the vicious, scheming wretch that she is, why in God’s name—?’ ‘She’s not a vicious, scheming wretch,’ Gerald said calmly. Hear me then, now, before I take one step to establish my origin, or secure my rights. "Will that do?" he added, returning it. She attempted by a sheer act of will to end the scene, to will herself out of it anywhere. ‘I suppose I need not ask to which other soldier you refer. From time to time the man below would shout, and the boy would let the threads go with the snap of a harpist, only to recover them instantly. She loved to be told to do things. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure.
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