She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. "I mean what I say," replied Jonathan. Look at the poor victim at your feet. "As I said before, I have little reliance upon professions of gratitude. You are my prisoner, murderer. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. It seems to me very silly. ‘Aye, that she was. . Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. Irregularly, in a quite inglorious and unromantic way, you know, I am a vicious man. Taber returning. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. . The man is a stranger to me.
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