And she was about as capable of intelligent argument as a runaway steam-roller. But I've stacks of books and a grand piano-player. As she neared the bottom of the dip in Piccadilly she saw a woman approaching her from the opposite direction—a tall woman who at the first glance seemed altogether beautiful and fine. D'ye hear. He envied her a little. But then the features changed. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. “Oh, damn!” he said. Rather would I have gone with Leonardo—and he wished me to do so. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. ‘For once, you’re talking like a sensible man.
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