Part 3 She dismissed the first hotels she passed, she scarcely knew why, mainly perhaps from the mere dread of entering them, and crossed Waterloo Bridge at a leisurely pace. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. She HAD cried, Ann Veronica knew. ’ A gleam of rare humour slid into Charvill’s chest. She could hear their footsteps upon the pavement. " As Jack made no reply, the woman proceeded. And here she was—in a mess because it had been impossible for her to avoid leaning upon another man. “Damn”.
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