She had started wearing the dresses he bought for her, the white and blue shift he said, “brings out the color in your eyes”. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. “Who is there to care and—John. “It is very good of you to come and see me, my dear sister,” Annabel remarked, throwing herself into a low chair, and clasping her hands over her head. But I am sick of tearing up letters and hopeless of getting what I have to say better said. This was a much more serious task than he anticipated.
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