‘Go on, Gerald. It was ended. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. It was on the night of the Great Storm that I found him. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. “My dear boy,” she exclaimed. ” “May I ask,” Anna said softly, “what you presume to have been the nature of my errand here this evening?” Sir John pointed to Annabel, who was as yet utterly limp. She had never expected John capable of saying such things, of thinking such macabre ideas. The blades on the top spun faster and faster. The burden of decision had been transferred.
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