CHAPTER 19“Relax, Jonas. It can’t be as bad as all that, angel.”
Philippa put her hand on Jonas’s arm. “Come on. A walk will do you good.”
Jonas gave his head a shake to free it from foreboding and dark presentiments.
“I’m sorry,” he said brusquely. “The hell with it. Come on.”
He looked down at Philippa then. She was still in her cinnamon slacks, but the chunk of rose tourmaline set in a gold lotus leaf at her brown throat, the chartreuse corduroy jacket embroidered with brown and rose woolen birds and tropical flowers, gave her a festive dressed-up air.
“Pretty snappy outfit.” He surveyed it and the figure it did nothing to conceal with a critical and appreciative eye.
“Thanks.—You know, it’s a damned shame, really.”
“What is?”
“The Darrell temper. They’ve all got it—except poor
