Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. ” “You did not——” “Wait, Annabel! When I arrived in London I went to live in the cheapest place I could find. Families had seen their lands seized, their chateaux ransacked or burned, and those unlucky enough to have failed to anticipate disaster, had been murdered or dragged away to gaol. "I did all for the best, as I'll explain. But you,” he continued, moving imperceptibility a little nearer to her, “you are mine.
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