So, while she watched, distressed and bewildered by her tumbling thoughts, the packet, Canton bound, ruffled the placid waters of the Pearl River. With trembling fingers she opened the post-bag. Stanley pronounced, and seemed to hesitate whether he had not gone too far. We are very poor, but manage to squeeze a little happiness out of each day. ‘Could she have been a spy, after all?’ ‘Oh, she’s not a spy,’ Gerald answered, almost absently. But you! Why the devil did you marry her? That's the thing that confounds me. He grabbed her legs and threw the covers from the bed. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel. The next few hours will tell.
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