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167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. "Tell him that I—his adopted son, Thames Darrell— am detained here by Jonathan Wild. " "There was Father," suggested Angelina gently. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. The girl is in it as deeply as he is. He sat before a desk littered all over with papers and official looking documents. His body went limp, and as he withdrew she ironically found herself at the doorway for the first time in her life of being truly aroused. " "So it is, child.
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