“Look at our affair,” he went on, looking up at her. Expiation. Whatever happened she need never return to that possibility. She had just managed to reach it, grabbing for the handle, when the enemy’s cracked command halted her. Kimble was clearly a plain-spoken fellow. Sir Cecil, who with Rowland and some others had entered the room rushed to the window with a torch. ‘You are jealous!’ ‘Yes,’ he agreed simply. He bore it as long as he could, watching all the time with fascinated eyes Annabel moving gracefully about amongst her guests, always gay, with a smile and a whisper for nearly everybody. Fortescue raised his eyebrows and assumed a light-comedy expression.
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