“Don’t be childish, Annabel. I bound him up good and tight, stuffed his mouth with a length of rope, taped it shut. It was a long walk she had to undertake, even if she had endured no previous fatigue, but feeble as she was, it was almost more than she could accomplish. ‘And I suppose I shall be obliged to endure another nonsensical tale about your husband. 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 was a very elegant young woman, slightly taller perhaps than her sister, and with an air of reserved strength underneath her quiet face and manner which Annabel may have lacked. There was one verse that haunted and mocked her. Pramlay lived for amenities and the mellowed surfaces of things.
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