Sebastian's arms were about her, his fists pumping her stomach as she coughed forth saltwater from her belly and lungs. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. ’ ‘Why did you not claim it yourself?’ asked Gerald. “You will be so good as to leave us your correct name and address, mademoiselle,” he said curtly. "Can you not love him?" "Love him!" echoed the widow. "We're forgetting," he said. She was, she guessed, close to the library. But he tells them that I am a spy.
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