He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. God, Lucy, what’s it been, how many years?” “I’m so sorry, John. ” A little sobbing cry from Annabel arrested Sir John’s attention. “Not like it’s your fault if you wake up one day and decide you hanker for a nice piece of ass, a ten-minute tumble. I know nothing about the matter, but I feel convinced that you are right. Until that moment, Jarvis had imagined the child to be safe in the wet-nurse’s cottage. “I’ll run, too,” she volunteered. "I've made no distinction between you, hitherto," answered Wood; "nor shall I do so, unless I'm compelled.
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