” He was dressed in his uniform of a Polo shirt and twill pants. “You were going to answer it?” “Certainly not!” she said deliberately. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. The girl had told him distinctly that her name was Anna. Jonathan, however, was nowhere to be seen. Wood in very characteristic attitudes, occupied a prominent place on the walls. “You will have some tea?” she asked. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. . . Annabel ignored both the chair and the invitation.
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