“I must take them,” she said, to help herself over her own incredulity. “Election be hanged!” he exclaimed. “My only answer would be to ask you to look at that mirror and then at the poster. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse. ’ ‘You should be happy that you are not dead,’ she retorted, but with a diminution of the venom and fright in her voice. Couldn’t make head nor tail of that note of yours. Come close to me, and let me hold your hand, dear. linked image back linked image back MADEMOISELLE AT ARMS Elizabeth Bailey © 2011 by Elizabeth Bailey All rights reserved.
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