” “They know you better,” he declared. “You’re wanted for questioning, miss. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. ” Annabel had been lying curled up on the lounge, the personification of graceful animal ease. “My dear Miss Stanley, when I talked to you the other afternoon of work and politics and such-like things, my mind was all the time resenting it beyond measure. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger. He was in a curious state of desperation. She fixed her eyes upon it and ran, keeping always as far as possible in the shadow of the hedge, gazing fearfully every now and then down along the valley for the white smoke of the train. I may want you.
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