The inn was a military haunt. He became ugly and monstrous, dunning her, threatening her, assailing her. ” “Then don’t talk to me now. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. . ” Annabel clutched her sister’s hands. ‘Well, if that’s what the good Lord wants, then you’ll just have to accept it. She could feel his eyes surreptiously scanning her backside. The only part of his otherwise-interesting countenance, to which one could decidedly object, was the mouth; a feature that, more than any other, is conceived to betray the animal propensities of the possessor. That’s Italians for you.
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