To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. “If I am,” he answered, reddening, “you can scarcely assert that it is without a cause. There was something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her. She was a lone white woman, therefore marked. Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean. “But I wish,” she said, “I had some idea what I was really up to. That her husband was not touching her anymore grew to be like a disease, something to be cured.
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