" "Why, what'll you do?" demanded the turnkey. ” She tried to plan her proceedings in detail. He got out in much the same way from the Gatehouse,—stole the keys, and passed through a room where I was sitting half-asleep in a chair. But though she lied about pretty much everything else, she didn’t lie about that. Her cheeks were the colour of chalk, her eyes were filled with terror. “How dared you do yourself this injustice?” “I did it for her sake,” she answered. Your aunt liked the pheasant. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way.
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