‘Believe it or not, I do it for pleasure. I—listen. I never could. “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. Following her lead, he fortified himself with a swallow of the excellent Madeira before responding. A middle-aged countrywoman, plump of cheek, and a little shy. ’ ‘And me,’ came the guttural response, ‘I will certainly murder you the very next time I am compelled to see your face.
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