” Annabel clutched her sister’s hands. Give me your hand. She could not say a word, much less move. The little pucker in her brows became more perceptible. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. Michelle ate fast, and Lucy followed her lead, shoveling mashed potatoes and salmon down her gullet in a passionless frenzy. She wished he could smoke and dull his nerves a little.
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