“You are a miracle! God spares few from the Pestilence. Is all that folly done with—for ever?” Annabel shivered ever so slightly. ‘To find what?’ demanded Gerald. ‘Let it fall!’ ‘Brute!’ she spat, struggling, and he knew at once he had guessed aright. If he was asleep, then she much regretted that she must wake him up. Indignation carried her through that night, that men and the world could so entreat her. Sheppard, fleeing from him to the farthest corner of the room. She hated being angry, the uselessness of it all, the frustration.
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