Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. “It seems so unfair,” she said, “to take all you offer me and give so little in return. When she awoke from a pleasant dream an hour later, she was shocked to find herself restrained in a bed that was not hers and not the inn’s. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. At least, he would always be able to take care of Ruth. “Mr. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. I imagine that even you must realize that this is of some importance. " "Willingly.
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