” Annabel laughed hardly. “I will MAKE you love me! Until he has faded—faded into a memory. ‘But Gérard—if you mean the fellow Alderley who was making eyes at Yolande—is not here. The touch of his lips neither thrilled nor alarmed her, because the eyes that looked into hers were clean. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. Raising him in his arms, Jonathan passed the rope round his body, and in this way the poor boy was drawn up without difficulty.
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