” “For the others,” Annabel said tearfully, “that is well enough. You can have no shecrets from me. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. ” Her elation teetered in mid-air for a second, then began to flutter down around her like a badly-built house of cards. Wanton! Had I been one, even God would have forgiven me, understanding. She took refuge in beating her pillow and inventing insulting epithets for herself. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. He has no imagination, no real generosity. She cleaned everything, wiped every surface, mopped and scrubbed every last drop of blood. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone.
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