Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. “It’s too bad. But perhaps he was right not to tell you the truth. For some seconds of voluminous thinking they looked at the ring between them, and neither spoke. “Who are you—Annabel Pellissier or her ghost?” Anna laughed. ’ ‘For God’s sake, don’t accuse her of murder,’ begged Gerald, retrieving the lady’s hat and handing it to her, ‘or she’ll be challenging me to a duel again. No one ate with as much passionate gusto as a teenager could. "I'm tired of the life I'm leading.
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