Sir John felt and looked several years younger. Annabel entered. . He was by no means certain that she would not in fact attempt to blow off his head as she had threatened. Michelle shrugged her off. He hung vaguely for a moment as she passed. “Look here, Ann Veronica,” he began. Then he released her hand, and sat back a little, appearing to concentrate his thoughts on her face. She thought of how much she wanted to eat the foods she had once feasted on that now smelled as innocuous as spring flowers. His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. Then she saw the bodies piled in the corner. Or else he was indeed obsessed.
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