She entered the room in the shadows. ‘Then let her keep her Frenchified titles to herself. Stir a foot, and I strike. Gerald raised his cockaded hat, and smiled. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. It was a bizarre sight, a miniature manor, replicated fully, walled in gray limestone.
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