‘But it is idiot. “Um, he took me to the Big Apple. Tell him the truth, Annabel. Mike was draped over the laminate kitchen counter, on the phone as usual. He glanced up at the coachman. Herculis was a port city on the Tyrrhenian Sea not far from where the manor had been. He was not sure that the boy had put himself beyond the pale; merely, the boy's actions pointed that way. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. The atmosphere at dinner was not propitious. She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. Fool that I was to part with my lantern! But I'll soon set myself straight.
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