He was all alone, like herself. But his daughter might well have a claim. They crossed the Channel in sunshine and a breeze that just ruffled the sea to glittering scales of silver. He sat with folded arms and knitted brows, thinking intently. ‘I agree with you. Below was an uninspiring street, a thoroughfare of boarding-houses and apartments. ‘Could she have been a spy, after all?’ ‘Oh, she’s not a spy,’ Gerald answered, almost absently. “The twins were left with his sister, Cris. A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being.
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