“What did you say?” “Well, I considered myself justified in denying it,” Anna answered drily. . . ’ ‘Leonardo again,’ Gerald muttered and, to her disappointment, dropped her hand. ” “I will tell her,” Anna promised. Don’t favour your father much, either, if it comes to that. It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. It will be necessary to secure his companion; and as you say he is not in the house, some caution must be used in approaching him, or he may chance to take to his heels, for he's a slippery little rascal. When I absorb a fact, my brain weighs the fact carefully and stores it away.
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