“Well?” she said, sitting down again. The Ragged Edge. “Forgive my coming in,” she said to Ennison. It would be swindling. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. . ’ She dropped to her knees before her old nurse and hugged the workroughened hand with both her own, looking up into Martha’s face where slow tears were tracing down her cheek. . The simile started a laugh in his throat. Foolish compliments were tossed about like confetti.
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