It was her past now, not Annabel’s. "I will at once convince you of the truth of my assertions, and ascertain whether the enemy really is at hand. ‘Will that be all, ma’am?’ ‘Yes, yes. ” His eyes were closed. Her aunt arrived about halfpast ten, in black and with an unusually thick spotted veil. “Hospital? What for? What’s the matter with me?” Courtlaw’s voice sank to a whisper. Spurling, half aside. He made some obvious comments on the wide view warming toward its autumnal blaze that spread itself in hill and valley, wood and village, below. She winced as he thrust the fact at her, was about to answer, and checked herself. The brain tires of resistance, and when it meets again and again, incoherently active, the same phrases, the same ideas that it has already slain, exposed and dissected and buried, it becomes less and less energetic to repeat the operation. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. In doing so, he had to clamber up the immense heap of bricks and rubbish which now littered the floor, amounting almost to a car-load, and reaching up nearly to the top of the chimney-piece.
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