” “And you?” Annabel exclaimed. ’ He grimaced. ’ ‘You need not be a nun,’ he said, leaning towards her. She went down, flushed and light-hearted, to the Widgetts’ after lunch to make some final arrangements and then, as soon as her aunt had retired to lie down for her usual digestive hour, took the risk of the servants having the enterprise to report her proceedings and carried her bag and hold-all to the garden gate, whence Teddy, in a state of ecstatic service, bore them to the railway station. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. Go to her.
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