She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. It was impossible. ’ ‘Distract me? She nigh on gave me an apoplexy. It was painful to want him so much. The white veil had fallen to the ground and Gerald retrieved it for her. She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. “A new admirer, Annabel? But what has that to do with your going to England?” “Everything! He is Sir John Ferringhall—very stupid, very respectable, very egotistical. Wood.
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