Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. From all angles he was at a disadvantage—in weight, skill, endurance. He’s waiting. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. Very slowly emerging out of a phase of stupefaction, these personal affairs and her personal problem resumed possession of her mind. It was a sovereign easily earned. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters. Again returning to the main road, he passed through Clapton; and turning off on the left, arrived at the foot of Stamford Hill. And afterwards! Sir John drew his cigar from his lips, and looked upwards where the white-lights flashed strangely amongst the deep cool green of the lime-trees. If he dies she is safe. Once before—but that had been different.
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