He was braver than her husband, who paced and cowered in the corners of the once-sunny Palazzo. “How odd that I should almost spring into your arms just on my doorstep!” she remarked gaily. She would never forget the agony of that first meal in the great dining room. F. She ought to have written at once and told him exactly what had happened. Like stealing. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. “I had lunch very late to-day, and I did not get home in time for dinner. The light of memory flashed in the man’s face. “May I hear?” “It really isn’t much to tell,” Drummond answered.
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