CHAPTER XXI

"Then you won't marry me?" said Lord Peter. The prisoner shook her head. "No. It wouldn't be fair to you. And besides--" "Well?" "I'm frightened of it. One couldn't get away. I'll live with you, if you like, but I won't marry you." Her tone was so unutterably dreary that Wimsey could feel no enthusiasm for this handsome offer. "But that sort of thing doesn't always work," he expostulated. "Dash it all, you ought to know--forgive my alluding to it and all that--but it's frightfully inconvenient, and one has just as …