I’m not Gerald, remember. ’ A strangled sob escaped her as his thumb dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her wrist. Her elbows were ready. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. " "For me!" vociferated Mrs. ‘Champion?’ ‘The lad you saw following her. ‘Who’d believe me? And I’d have to tell my part in it all, too. And if she was ever found living in the area like that, homeless, John could somehow find out.
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