Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. And he began also at times to wake at night and think about her. ’ ‘Yes, but what is it, Jacques?’ demanded the lady. His breath grew shallower as he approached the room, conscious of the loudness of his hallway-reverberated footfalls. That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word. I said to myself, ‘this will come. "You know not what you do.
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