On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. Wanton! Had I been one, even God would have forgiven me, understanding. But it wasn’t the harassment that bothered her. At any rate, it would be good to hear him saying the sort of things he did—perhaps now she would grasp them better—with this world-shaking secret brandishing itself about inside her head within a yard of him. For a long time she surveyed a row of towering holly-hocks, as though they offered an explanation. We were to have breakfast there and return in the evening. We fixed that. ‘Does Charvill know that this Melusine of yours is here?’ The question distracted Gerald. You are infatuated. “Ye Gods!” she said at last. “Wonderful!” “I have always longed for prison service,” said a voice, “always. She and John were able to see each other many times and spent long romantic winter afternoons together.
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