Anna and her escort exchanged glances. ‘Of course I see that,’ she said impatiently. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. ‘Indeed?’ Gerald grinned. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. “A silly little priestess who knew nothing of life at all until she came to you. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage.
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