It would be downright cruel to disillusion her. Did he intend to kill her now, this instant? Or had she a moment or two to try to save herself? Recalling Leonardo’s dictum, she did not struggle, for that would only tighten the trap about her, and perhaps even spring it. “John, you were never bound to me, you don’t owe me anything. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. ” Lucy blinked from the winter sunlight and reached behind herself to yank at her hood.
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