. . But I want to know whether in such an event you would stand by me?” She held out her hand. . ’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. But there was no feeling of remorse; there was only the sensation of exaltation. ‘My papa he does not wish me to marry the man I choose, and thus he places me in the convent that the nuns may lock me up and I cannot escape. ’ ‘And your precious vicomte didn’t wish for the English one,’ said Charvill, acid in his voice.
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