There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. ’ ‘When you begin to tell the truth,’ Gerald told her severely, ‘I shall be happy to believe you. Perhaps it was loneliness. It seemed to him that a sort of mist had risen up between them. It means. She pointed suddenly at the portrait. It did seem in so many ways exactly what Ramage said it was—the sensible thing to do.
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