Hardened as he may be, that would touch him. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. Sheppard, with a deep sigh, perceiving that her benefactor hesitated to pronounce the word. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. I would sooner see you in a ’bus again. An admirable alternative presented itself and she sighed, spreading her hands.
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