You see me here, an admitted failure in the object to which I have devoted two years of my life. ‘Only you made me lose my temper, and—’ ‘I made you do so? Pah!’ Gerald at last succeeded in ripping the handkerchief from her grasp, and swiftly held it to her neck, oblivious to her now bloodied fingers clawing at his hand. Wood, popping her head through the window. ‘Who, the émigrés?’ ‘Do I speak of the English, imbecile? Certainly the émigrés. Would it be Thérèse?’ She shook her head. My heart cannot take it.
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