The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. “What’s going on with you?” John asked inquisitively, looking down at her abdomen. My sister was scarcely likely to make a mistake. The only difficulties that presented themselves clearly to her were the difficulties of getting away from Morningside Park, and not the difficulties at the other end of the journey. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. “Martin Chen!” Michelle shouted his name in an outburst, like an invocation. The iron slipped from his face, leaving it blank with astonishment.
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