She could not help herself. "Has Jack displeased you? If so, overlook his fault this once. I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet. She felt the warm nearness of his. Jack could hardly be accounted good-looking: Thames, on the contrary, was one of the handsomest boys possible. That night, she hunted the alleyways of the old town. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love.
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