“Even Katy Pfister can’t touch you now. Roused by the bell tolling for evening service, Jack left the house. She released her clutch on it as, dizzy with exhaustion, she leaned against the back of the pew and closed her eyes, her fingers grasping out automatically for support. I’ve never found them hostile. She could tell that he was furious in that instant. Seeing the footman about to follow her in, Gerald clamped a hand onto his shoulder. ’ She shook her head sadly. And mind, your life,—more than your life—hangs upon your choice.
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