Chapter Forty Five
The door shut, not a moment too soon--in fact a moment earlier might have been nice--but at least, now the door had shut, she could sink back on the bed. Not that she wanted to betray a weakness or anything, but when her head had just been panned in, how could she help it?
How dare he? Say she'd cost him everything he owned. A fine thanks for all she’d done for him. When, if everything she'd heard was to be believed—and some would say that it was--even the clothes on his back, did not appear to be owned. Certainly they were not owned by him. Everything about him was lies—the only things he did own. And, if he had become one with the smugglers, the chances were he’d lined the pockets he didn’t own, with goods that weren’t his either.