“Then why go out with him, Michelle? Why belabor yourself?” Lucy questioned. ” The official frowned. ” She turned her face to the fire, gripped her hands upon her elbows, and drew her thin shoulders together in a shrug. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. Forgetting the dark thoughts of his last brush with the girl, he dropped the dagger back in his pocket, quickened his pace, and went back into the house to look for his hostess. You have converted me to—Lester Ward! You are my dear friend, you are a slip of a girl, but there are moments when my head has been on your breast, when your heart has been beating close to my ears, when I have known you for the goddess, when I have wished myself your slave, when I have wished that you could kill me for the joy of being killed by you.
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