Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger. ‘Certainly you must have seen her. To the Seven Cities of Refuge Jack proceeded. That dress is thirty years old, if a day. “No, I must have had hope lurking somewhere too. In her little sitting-room she turned on the electric light and looked around half fearfully.
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