Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers. ‘Who, the émigrés?’ ‘Do I speak of the English, imbecile? Certainly the émigrés. Do you know, Lady Ferringhall, I am proud that your sister permits me to call myself her friend. I swear it. “Why did you lie to that man?” he asked fiercely. She advanced, stabbing at him. The hurricane had now reached its climax. “I have always,” she admitted calmly, “taken a certain amount of interest in Annabel’s future. She described it so vividly.
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