"Drink this," cried Jonathan, handing her the cup. Was he planning on spending more time with her once in the country? The streets choked with beggars and the dying. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. ‘Too late by the time I realised to what a dunderhead I’d pledged my friendship. “I don’t see why I should take it secondhand. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force.
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