Peg after peg had gone down his blistered throat, but never had a smile touched his lips, never had his gaze roved inquisitively. I think not, Annabel. ’ ‘I imagine it must be a relief to you, after so lucky an escape. ‘Speak, then. Then he would turn his face to her, and she would have to think of herself in his eyes. “What made you marry him? What made you leave Paris without a word to any one? What made you and your sister exchange identities?” “There is one answer to all those questions, Nigel,” she said, with a nervous little shudder. She looked at the white ankle socks on her feet and was reminded simultaneously of her pajama outfit and the suitcase that still lay underneath the bed. They took their places at a distant table. I'll lay my life he's gone.
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