Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. Sheppard, averting her face to hide her tears. ’ Triumph soared in Gerald’s chest. That last year in Paris, when Annabel and she had lived in different worlds, had often been a nightmare to her. There were cakes and sandwiches—for Ennison a sort of Elysian feast, long to be remembered. He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. ’ There was a kind of aching hunger in Gerald’s gaze.
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