He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. She was unusually soft and gentle in her manner to him. Something, then, to appease the wrath of God; something to blunt this persistent agony. She never expected to get her ladyship home alive. Now, however, as Gerald watched them, their heads were together and they were murmuring in French. What is it?" "Is there anything I can do?" The idiocy of the question filled him with the craving of laughter.
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