” “You mean—you think——” “Hush! I think that he was concealed in my room, and Annabel and he met there. Shamefaced curiosities began to come back into her mind, thinly disguised as literature and art. She was lovely, painted like the porcelain doll he had always wanted her to be. His anger gave way to grim humour and he thrust towards them, leaning heavily on his cane. She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings. Anyhow, they didn’t run about so much.
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