“Sir John!” Annabel gasped. She had told him, point blank, that since the Church had neither annulled the first marriage nor sanctified the second one, she was not his wife. My heart misgives me. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. ‘Don’t be silly. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. A slow anger burned in the man. But I'm resolved to see Lady Trafford. But this I cannot do. Just one thing more.
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