Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom. “He is Annabel’s husband,” she reminded him. He guided her hand to his crotch, which had already grown in size. Firmly built, as it was, the bridge creaked in such a manner with their contending efforts, that Abraham durst not venture beyond the door, where he stood, holding the light, a horrified spectator of the scene. Through no fault of her own. Disappointment flickered in Gerald’s chest, and he did not hesitate to speak his mind, unable to help a reproachful note.
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