” Annabel looked down. Melusine had confessed this morning, that she had borrowed his horse, that Jack had met with his accident through her fault. Her wedding gown! She wondered if the spirit of the unknown mother looked down upon her. Don’t leave me. Brute! Fool! To have come to her on such an errand. He looked across at Annabel, and he groaned. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. “Sebastianus? Where did my husband go?” He smiled at her gently, patronizingly, as he prevented her from movement or escape.
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