A dozen books lay upon the counterpane. “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. Panic leapt into his eyes as he brought his wrist up just in time to parry the blade. He left his companion in the midst of a glowing eulogy of Bastien Leparge, and boldly intercepted his hostess as she moved from one group to join another. She had never felt so cold, she felt even colder than she had in the water. ‘That rascally knave sent you to become a French nun?’ Looking positively terrified, the girl nodded dumbly. His face will be all I need.
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