“Do you think it is fair of you to persecute me just now?” “It is not persecution, Anna,” he answered gently. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. ’ ‘Oh, that,’ Gerald said cautiously. I swear it. We all love you dearly. I will no longer be a burthen to those upon whom I have no claim, but compassion. She hated to leave; for this hour would be the most interesting. ’ ‘Lord, man, it’s only a scratch!’ Suddenly Gerald snapped his fingers. "Couldn't you speak to him?" "What?—and be insulted for my trouble? No, thank you!" "That is it.
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