“Please let me drive you home. He bore it as long as he could, watching all the time with fascinated eyes Annabel moving gracefully about amongst her guests, always gay, with a smile and a whisper for nearly everybody. He hated to destroy it; but that was the obligation imposed; and he was an honourable man. They unloaded Michelle’s sleeping parents who had been propped up in the back seat, necks craned against each other. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. It was the moment for smiles. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. Brendon.
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