“My dear Vee!” Her voice became very low. It was a haunted place. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda. There was question in Gerald’s gaze as it met hers, and apology in his voice. General Lord Charvill disinherited him for his pains. ‘Bring her to me and we shall see. I am aware that you ran away from there, but—’ ‘Certainly I ran away,’ she said, meeting his gaze with defiance in her own.
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