’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. ’ Gerald raised his brows. In response to an almost imperative gesture from the nurse, Anna laid her hand upon his. The agonized mother could scarcely repress a scream at the spectacle that met her gaze. In her usual style, she interviewed him for his life and was pleased that he liked nothing more than to talk about himself. " "You're strangely superstitious, Sir Rowland," said Jonathan, halting, and looking steadfastly at him. Wood the best of wives.
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