‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. “You were never born,” he declared, “to follow the well worn roads. How the devil did you break a picture?’ ‘Don’t be obtuse, Hilary. I got to have you under guard in the gatehouse, I can see that. ” Annabel leaned back in her chair and laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. It was horrible, but what could she do? She meant to live her own life, and he meant, with contempt and insults, to prevent her. As they kissed goodbye, she hoped that he felt the same reluctance to part. But such is the perversity of the human that frequently thereafter he purposely crooked the part in his hair, to give her the excuse to fetch the comb.
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