“I think,” he said, “that some one ought to warn her. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. Annabel saw it, and suddenly changed her tone. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. She brought her face to his chest, turning her head sideways so he would not notice her elongated canines. Her gaze flickered down to his pistol. Deuce take it! I was very near spelling my name with one P. The title had formerly been held by Gianfrancesco’s brother, Alessia, now dead of plague. “We are both of us trenching upon forbidden ground,” she said. The reward is mine.
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