‘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. ” “I don’t believe it,” he answered hoarsely. ’ ‘Just what I thought, miss. Lady Trafford, supposed to be childless, broken in health and spirits, frail both in mind and body, is not likely to make another marriage. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. ‘Of course. ” She laughed softly to herself. “Annabel! God in Heaven, it is Annabel!” She did not speak. It remains a bizarre idea to me that Lucy Alberti could ever become so detailed or so real, but I’m certainly glad to have made her acquaintance.
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