Perhaps the sunken cheeks and the protruding cheekbones gave her this impression. She did not know herself. He was not, in truth, much of a ladies’ man. Apparently she was always doomed to weep when she talked to her father. I needed a man the worst kind of way—a man I could keep for at least six months. ” “It is,” Annabel answered shortly. ” Her breath left her for a moment. ” His eyes were squeezed shut. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. When she looked into their eyes, her despair put her beyond tears. He's a cutie. ’ Her lips parted, but she did not speak. ” “You do not flatter me,” she laughed. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat.
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