Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. At table he carved in a gloomy but resolute manner. She unlaced his pants and slid them down his hips, examining him as he stood before her naked. She breathed deeply, and he breathed sympathetically. She had already killed more than she wanted to count, yet she had counted them still. Anna raised her eyes. ‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’ ‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to fathom. ’ ‘Will you indeed? Truly?’ His smile held so much tenderness, she was tempted to surrender at once. "What shall I say? Shall I tell you, or shall I leave you in the dark—as I must always leave her? What shall I say except that I am accursed of men? Yes; I have loved something—her mother. Ramage.
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