The flat was apparently empty. It occurred to her that it was absurd and wrong to be so continuously thinking of one engrossing topic, and she made a strenuous effort to force her mind to other questions. It was in fact the first embrace of motherhood she had ever known. She kissed Cathy's soft cheek as she entered the warm kitchen. I can’t love you. I'm entirely at your service. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. ‘I kissed you once, didn’t I?’ Her pulses jumped and she stared. That dress she has on—my mother might have worn it. ’ ‘Gammon!’ burst from the captain, who had just tossed off a glass of Madeira. You belong to me, and I have waited long enough.
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