Then it came to her with a shock, as an extraordinary oversight, that she could never tell Manning about Ramage—never. “What do you mean, Annabel? You only knew Mr. She washed her face with unwonted elaboration before she went to bed. “Who tied this scarf here?” he asked, looking up. “The life of a private secretary is positively one of slavery. ‘Again?’ Another simple parry. He threw her on the bed. It is one of God’s laws that a woman may defend her honour, even with the shedding of blood. ‘We mean you no harm,’ he said reassuringly.
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