” “Well, he was presumptuous,” Annabel remarked, “and he wasn’t nice about it. Where was the message? Where was Gerald? Until he came back, what was there for her to do? Eh bien, it made no sense to do anything. Wood fared still worse. A familiar ache of wanting made itself more insistent in her belly. "Once in this chair, yer hon'r, and I'll warrant he'll not get out so aisily as Jack Sheppard did from the New Pris'n. She was almost tempted to tell him, if only to see the cracks of surprise and incredulity break the immobility of his yellow countenance. But this might be merely a figurative mode of describing his customary vigilance.
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