” Annabel laughed derisively and took up her book. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. Always remember that. ’ It took several frustrating moments, working at the protrusions of the carving down the side of the bookshelves, tugging at leaves, pushing at flowers. That was the inconvenience of it; her head was swimming. . “Are you sure you want to do this?” Lucy asked. The dress was her mother's, and she was wearing it to save a little extra money. ‘But do you not see that he will come again? I think it is better if you, both of you, go and leave me here to find—’ She broke off, looking away.
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