’ She turned and swept away from him, pacing the length of the room to the window Gerald had unshuttered. Her gratitude swelled within her. It was Annabel who caught at the paper. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. Aided by an individual, who was acquainted with a secret outlet from the tenement, Darrell escaped. She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones. . ’ ‘As a matter of fact, it isn’t,’ conceded Gerald. .
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