Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. Supposing she saw the young man at dinner that night, emptying his bottle? She could not go to him, sit down and draw the sordid pictures she had seen so often. She stared. He talked about his driver's license, how he would soon inherit his older brother's BMW. She observed the tides, amazed by how high the water could rise, almost touching the tops of the cliffs. “Don’t!” cried Ann Veronica, struggling faintly, and he released her. What were you doing at Remenham House? I can’t puzzle that bit out. Perhaps once it had desired some other human being intolerably.
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