Her hair was the one part of her that did not exude the air of wealth. She drew it out with shaking fingers. “Why don’t you wear your white blouse more often? It is the prettiest shirt you own. Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. Almost worthy of your own fertile imagination. Gerald, meanwhile, was off hunting up these lawyers, together with your son, ma’am—’ turning to Mrs Sindlesham ‘—and you know the outcome of that. “Of course!” he said. He returned the locket without comment. “I am afraid,” he said to Anna afterwards, “that it was a mistake to order the champagne sec.
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