Leaving the library by the same door she had first used to enter it earlier that day, she crossed the two little antechambers and moved on through the rooms. She had seen her really only at teas, with the Stanley strain in her uppermost. Annabel laughed a little uneasily. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. ‘Moi, je vais vous tuer!’ ‘I don’t think so,’ Gerald said through his teeth. “Of course,” he ventured, “I could try for more at the ‘Alhambra.
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