‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. ” Her words were slurred with sleep. “Let’s go. Do you know, Annabel, that you are my wife. She saw me, and, Lady Ferringhall, I shall never forget her look as long as I live. It’s just life, pure life, life nascent, running clear and strong. Can I please go home now?” “Honey, I promise you can go soon, but you have to fill out some paperwork before you go.
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