Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. Her efforts were vain. Jack turned away with an aching heart. ” The truth prevailed. Then a ride to London on horseback. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. The afternoon was her own; but from eight until midnight she sat beside the patient.
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