The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. Without preamble, in a voice of extreme exasperation, he demanded, ‘Now what the devil’s to do? What in God’s name do you mean by sending Gerald such a ridiculous letter? Never read anything half as crazy. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. ’ A question leapt into Everett’s head and he recalled the letter to the Abbess. . ‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live. The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day.
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