‘What are you going to do now, Gerald?’ He sipped his wine and shrugged. He glanced up at the coachman. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers. I do not think that you will dare to marry anybody else. We know London, and you are a stranger here. “Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. ” “No? But it is very simple. ‘But I have the pistol,’ Gerald pointed out.
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