Like a nightmare memory that returned again and again to haunt her. Her mother had prepared her for everything. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. “I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you. ‘Well, sir, if I’ve to choose betwixt him and you, I’ll take you, no question. I’d rather not go,” she added. A broken laugh followed the action. At least, you are one, and I am disguised like one. ‘Don’t be so absurd.
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