While he was straining every sinew, his foot slipped, and he fell, head foremost, into a deep trench, which he had not observed in the dark. Kneebone, what with flirting with Mrs. ’ Quick anger flared, surpassing the fluttering hope. He recognised this object at once. ” “The explanation seems to me to be reasonably simple,” Annabel said coldly. He was still thickly clad in jeans. But there was a face pressed to the glass. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. To that, perhaps, a large part of its satisfyingness was due. “Quite on my own,” she said. She struggled fiercely not to give way. “Well, you have thought it over?” he said, sitting down beside her. ‘You don’t favour her, bar the black hair.
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