“Isn’t that rather a strange question—under the circumstances?” he asked quietly. He became a little less en garde. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. It jars with all my ideas. She saw me, and, Lady Ferringhall, I shall never forget her look as long as I live. Sir John and Annabel seated themselves at one of them, and the proprietor himself, a small dark-visaged man, radiant with smiles, came hurrying up, followed by a waiter. She responded as he slipped his hands under her sweater. The particulars of her engagement were very clear in her memory. "And yet—but it is only part of the chain of ill-luck that seems wound around me. It was horrible, but what could she do? She meant to live her own life, and he meant, with contempt and insults, to prevent her.
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