Sheppard despairingly. Her stomach growled, and she clutched at it in reaction, haphazardly observing that the gown had been changed to silk. And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers. ‘Don’t concern yourself,’ Gerald said calmly. “So I see that you have become content with your hardscrabble existence, your week-to-week survival, your Martin Chen!” “Who?” “Your limp-wristed lover!” “Um. ‘See that writing table? Go and look in the drawer there. Marina had retired to bed, drinking wine slowly, sleeping when she was not drinking.
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