It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten. The streets were deserted as they drove past familiar sites. He occupied one of the smaller houses near the station. ” “Alive,” Annabel moaned, her eyes large with terror. 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. “It isn’t a joke,” she said. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. He hated himself a little for it. She then dried her eyes, and laying her child gently upon the floor, knelt down beside him. But this might be merely a figurative mode of describing his customary vigilance.
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