’ A strangled sob escaped her as his thumb dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her wrist. ’ Gerald could not resist. Have you seen much of her lately?” “Nothing at all,” he answered. But we've got to cook up some kind of a story to protect her. ’ ‘What young lady?’ demanded a voice from the back of the hall. He changed his mind however, and simply motioned to her to proceed. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. Of course, it really signified nothing in this careless part of the world that she was travelling alone. You go home and live on the G.
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