Explore "A Traitor in London" by Fergus Hume on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Brenda's reasoning power was not at fault in that moment of excitement. Harold, with his small patrol party, had crossed the river. She, too, was across the river -- Van Zwieten had told her that. It was Harold's voice she had heard; she could not be mistaken. It was no matter of the wish being father to the thought. It was his voice she had heard -- the voice of her own husband. He was there in the farmhouse with his party.
"Thank God! " she cried, raising herself with difficulty.