For was not Gerald a gentleman? An Englishman, whose services any female—excluding her own self so idiote— would be very happy to have. She could feel Michelle’s nervousness leaching into her spine. ‘Did you see the man?’ Gerald asked. But there was no feeling of remorse; there was only the sensation of exaltation. “There’s no delusions, so far as I know,” said Ann Veronica. He had removed his silk hat, and now sat looking at Ann Veronica over an untouched cup of tea; he sat gloating upon her, trying to catch her eye. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. Her head dipped deeply into the current, and she narrowly escaped being swamped. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. ’ Gerald remained infuriatingly calm.
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