She climbed slowly towards it, keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding her skirts high above the dew-laden grass. Martin’s crush. If he ran less risk of being blown over, he stood a much greater chance of being washed off, or stifled. ‘Would it so? What sort of a girl is she, then?’ ‘She’s a consummate devil,’ Gerald declared roundly. A creature of convenience, she could have cared less if her children were carried away by drunkards on the street. In a second the glass lay shattered upon the carpet. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. “I have not the least idea who he is.
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