Ann Veronica found herself in a little stirring crowd of excited women, whispering and tittering and speaking in undertones. Yes. At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. ‘It could not be helped, whichever way I made my presence known. His noble Florentine roots went back a thousand years, to the days of grand Rome herself. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. He recalled with exasperating perplexity her clear, matter-of-fact tone as she talked about love-making being unconvincing. Wild!" demanded Trenchard, as if he had formed a sudden resolution. One realized indeed then where the differences lay; the tender curves about Anna’s mouth transformed into hard sharp lines in Annabel’s, the eyes of one, truthful and frank, the other’s more beautiful but with less expression—windows lit with dazzling light, but through which one saw—nothing. For the first time a definite doubt possessed him.
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