I have said your life is in danger, Thames. She found herself trying on the baubles he brought home, placing the silver rings upon her slim fingers, knowing that he would take up her hand and kiss it. Sometimes her straying mind would become astonishingly active—embroidering bright and decorative things that she could say to Capes; sometimes it passed into a state of passive acquiescence, into a radiant, formless, golden joy. The release was so great that she felt tears spring from her eyes. “You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked. The cold air gave her gooseflesh under her red brocade dress as she slipped outside. “Very good,” he said. ” “You are not a coward,” she repeated, “or you would not be my friend. I thought—the papers said——” “You thought that I was dead,” he interrupted.
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