Never had she seemed to him so much like Anna. Why don’t I just go and get the key from Pottiswick?’ Alderley flicked a glance back at him over his shoulder. ‘But what is it that amuses you, Jacques?’ Kimble’s grin spread wider. It was the bitterest moment of her life. Usually it was fish sticks and reheated noodles. Paris was full, and it was by no means a retired spot which she had found. It slipped out—as did that “she”. You see, I’m selfish. ‘He isn’t Valade, and the Comtesse de St Erme is absolutely furious. And what did she do? Not only did she cut his hand in her rage, but she refused to let him help her, and then she ran away from him.
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