“Hullo!” Courtlaw, haggard, his deep-set eyes more brilliant than ever, took Anna’s hand into his, and breathed a little close drawn sigh of content. Beyond was a chaise longue, covered with cushions and shawls laid anyhow across it, together with a discarded tapestry in the making, and a scattering of woollen threads about it. “That,” she answered, “is far easier to believe. There was a look in her eyes which puzzled him. "I thought it best that you should imagine him. My name is Annabel, not Anna. She descended down the stairs of the house, sidestepping the refuse from bingedrinking teenagers that was strewn everywhere.
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