I still have a cross stitch she made for me of a little fairy sitting on a daffodil. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. Overjoyed beyond measure at having vanquished this apparently-insurmountable obstacle, Jack darted through the door. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. The ruse succeeded almost beyond his expectation. Even in the daylight, it had a sombre and suspicious air, and seemed to slink back from the adjoining houses, as if afraid of their society. “Michelle, I think that you are the victim of an extremely overactive imagination.
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