CHAPTER VII The astonishing collapse of Spurlock created a tableau of short duration. His gaze dropped to the black garment that covered her. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. As she did so the preparation-room door opened behind her. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. E. Luckily, Sir James was so much engrossed by his own task, that both the remark and gesture escaped him. ‘What mischief?’ ‘I don’t know, but I’ll go bail you’re at something. “Well,” he said, argumentatively, “it IS. Her sister’s words were true. "For what?" "I had the paper with me.
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