" "I don't wonder at it," rejoined Gay. ” He put his head on one side, pulled down the corners of his mouth, and looked at her over his glasses. ‘In that case, he is probably already dead, and you have nothing to worry about. “Too greasy for me. ” He nodded twice, with his eyes on the fire, as though that was a formal statement. “The Annabel who lives here, who sings every night at the ‘Unusual’? They call her by your old name. I suppose I believe in God. Then they dressed her in a dirty dress of coarse serge and a cap, and took away her own clothes. She offers me no explanation, permits me absolutely no hope.
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