She didn’t trust Gianfrancesco, you know, she called him a ‘bad husband’. ” With a little crash the pistol fell from her shaking fingers. “You need a reason. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. ’ ‘Grossly unfair, too. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. Gerald doubted there would be many eager suitors, even assuming the comtesse was keen to marry off her daughter to a foreign protestant. He had brought the shrubs down from Syria, and, strangely enough, they had prospered. All right, I’m coming. This smile was more harrowing even than her former rigid look. There had been disappointments and humiliations, and although she hated to admit it even to herself, she was in desperate straits.
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