“Let’s go home. Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. It was her past now, not Annabel’s. The smell of laundry detergent was noticeable, the bed sheets very tightly stretched across the bed, tucked in on three sides. Grace, confidence, the power of movement even, seemed gone from her. And ever after it struck him that her backward smile as she disappeared was charged with some special significance. She’s naïve, and yet uncannily shrewd at times, and you daren’t rely on anything she says. . "In wine there is truth. You’re neither of you any longer under arrest. ” Annabel laughed softly.
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