Annabel thought, and thought again. “Is it any one you know?” Brendon asked. He stalked her, he stared at her, he craved her, he sidled slinking and propitiatory and yet relentlessly toward her, until at last she awoke from the suffocating nightmare nearness of his approach, and lay awake in fear and horror listening to the unaccustomed sounds of the hotel. Michelle sat on her bed, which emanated scents of powdered laundry detergent and Sweet Honesty perfume. In the next place, she really had some pretensions to beauty. Washed in light from the vestry window, she held her ground, all thought at bay, bar the steel determination long ago instilled in her by her unconventional tutor.
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