” “A—marriage certificate!” Annabel gasped. Which was not to say that ladies were not interested in him. ‘He was very kind to me. I was—I was a corespondent. Besides these there was a warm gooseberry-tart, and a cold pigeon pie—the latter capacious enough, even allowing for its due complement of steak, to contain the whole produce of a dovecot; a couple of lobsters and the best part of a salmon swimming in a sea of vinegar, and shaded by a forest of fennel. ‘Would you have me face my maker with that on my conscience? If I’d died, there’d have been no one to tell you, for your father would not have done. It was as if her aesthetic sense had become inflamed. I would be chased by every curious party on this planet, by vampireseekers, by witch-hunters, by researchers, you name it.
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