CHAPTER XXXII. “You certainly got him in the bag. “I want to make you happy, Lucy. “I wrote it for you. Taber is very ill. And, come what will, I'll balk him of the satisfaction of hanging me. She took refuge in beating her pillow and inventing insulting epithets for herself. But I must summon my janizaries. She began rubbing it with her pocket-handkerchief. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his.
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