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He often wanted only to drive with her in the car, both of them staring at the scenery in silence for hours. Time after time he sent Spurlock into this corner or that; but always the boy regained his feet before the murderous boot could reach the mark. Must be plenty of work for you to do. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. “I do,” Anna answered. Anna raised her eyebrows at the sight of him. Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words.

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