" "What proof have you that I am?"—was the return bolt. It did not occur to her that they at least had found a way of earning a living, and had that much economic superiority to herself. One from 1966, a yearbook photo reprinted in a newspaper. ‘Indeed?’ Gerald said politely. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. All concerned in the dark transaction must have perished. The man or woman who did something for nothing always excited his suspicions; they were playing some kind of a game.
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