” She nodded. One thing—he could be thankful for that—the peak of his misfortunes had been reached; the world might come to an end now and not matter in the least. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. Wood. There is scarcely one chance in a dozen of saving his life; there would be none at all if he were moved. ’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. ’ She gestured at his hand, on which Roding’s makeshift bandage had been replaced by a more efficient one.
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