Everything, my dear, everything!. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. The smell of laundry detergent was noticeable, the bed sheets very tightly stretched across the bed, tucked in on three sides. It was Annabel who spoke. Wait a little; rest. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. “To tell you the truth though, I am quite a stranger in London, and it occurred to me that Mr. ‘Don’t tell me.
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