Not one of them but bore the marks of having been engaged in a recent and severe conflict. But Gerald kept to a casual note. "Rowland," said Lady Trafford, regarding him with a look of indescribable anxiety, "you have assured me that I shall behold my son. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. There was a look in her eyes which puzzled him. She remembered the doctor's warning that the real battle would begin when the patient recovered consciousness. She winked at him as he shut the door. My mother died the day I was born; that’s what they tell me.
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