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He had an objective now. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. And as for not knowing me, you abominable little liar, you’re perfectly aware that we met at Remenham House. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. I hope she falls off the face of the planet. Things got hot and heavy in the car the next night, and he peeled off her skirt and top to reveal her underwear. There could not, he decided, possibly be two girls so much alike. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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