It’s just to feel—one owns one’s self. ” They stared at each other through a pause, and both faces were flushed and obstinate. Nor, he would wager, had the heroic Monsieur Valade, who had rescued her from that life and brought her to England, taught her in that short time all that Gerald was certain she knew of men. He tried to make love to me. But Jack and his companion were already gone. “I haven’t a scrap—of this sort of aversion. Why don’t you wait and see if you do truly love me, then I can believe you? Then I know I am worth waiting for. But we’ve got the brains to get over that, and tongues in our heads to talk to each other. Lucy loved orchestras, the bittersweet tinge of rosin dust that hung in the air, the way that the sun shone through filthy windows illuminating the marimbas with a storybook light. ’ Gerald held out his hand, and she meekly gave the dagger up to him.
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