He reached for her chin and lifted it up. “Annabel,” she said slowly, “if I fight this thing out myself, can I trust you that it will not be a vain sacrifice? After what you have said it is useless for us to play with words. “Well, anyhow, consider it open. The books would be soaked and ruined in the rain anyway through the thin skin of the pack. "I declare I'm all in a cold sweat. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. It was not only Leonardo who had instilled in her this distrust of men. Then she shrugged.
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