He looked across at Annabel, and he groaned. Notwithstanding her emaciation, her features still retained something of a pleasing expression, and might have been termed beautiful, had it not been for that repulsive freshness of lip denoting the habitual dram-drinker; a freshness in her case rendered the more shocking from the almost livid hue of the rest of her complexion. Then she shrugged. “Let’s go. They had heard nothing, seen nothing. Neither of them believed me. ‘I may have been only a secretary, but times are changing. Lucy was filled with happiness, it was her third Christmas at the Becks.
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