" "And you married me, knowing?" "I married the man who bought a sing-song girl to give her her freedom. Lucy felt her heart splinter in her breast. The big gray spaces of London, the shop-lit, greasy, shining streets, had become very remote; the biological laboratory with its work and emotions, the meetings and discussions, the rides in hansoms with Ramage, were like things in a book read and closed. She was too delicate, too fragile to survive out there. ‘Maybe not,’ Gerald conceded, ‘but I’m damned if I herald my approach with a lot of unnecessary blundering about in the dark. Oh, I know. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. It was approached from the street by a flight of broad stone steps, leading to a ponderous door, plated with iron, and secured on the inner side by huge bolts, and a lock, with wards of a prodigious size. unless a copyright notice is included. He offered me at once an engagement.
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