Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. If he did resemble me, I shouldn't care about him. ’ ‘You little fiend,’ exclaimed Gerald wrathfully. Something forbade him to draw her toward him and seal the compact with a kiss. ‘But I’m hanged if I know why you find it so amusing. For aught I know, they may be in the neighbourhood at this moment. It was Jack, wasn’t it?’ ‘Aye, s-sir.
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