“It is strange that we should have met Annabel,” she said. ” He stood up with his legs parted in an inverted “V”, puffing up, trying to make himself look bigger. She was bathed in turbid water that had already been used. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. “The Annabel who lives here, who sings every night at the ‘Unusual’? They call her by your old name. Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there. “It’s as broad as life,” said Mr. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. “We sent for you several hours ago,” he remarked. ” “I feel so guilty.
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