’ Gerald eyed her. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. "Och! he's a broth of a boy!" "Why, I thought he'd broken your head, Terry?" "Phooh! that's nothing? A piece o' plaster'll set all to rights; and Terry O'Flaherty's not the boy to care for the stroke of a supple-jack. I worshipped women long before I found any woman I might ever hope to worship. Without you, we might have had some trouble. ” “There was no need for such heroism,” Annabel said coldly. She got to the driveway and was semi-surprised to see that his car was gone. “Because I hate you!” She spat.
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