“John, don’t!” she cried. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address. She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. But why this part of the plan now seemed to her quite unattractive was a question she did not care to examine too closely. ” “Why?” “If I were bad at it, you would be on your way to the hospital by now. “Julian, I don’t want to get married!” She blinked in 119 disbelief as she saw how hurt he was by her reply. You know—if you want freedom.
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