” “Why did you keep her all of these years? What good can it do?” “She created me, Lucia. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely. ‘Do not mix yourself in mine, and perhaps you will not die. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. He noticed the two chairs close together. ” Annabel gave a little gasp. Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page. You, Anna, are one of them.
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