Don’t touch the handle, Annabel! Curse the thing, you’ve jammed it now. The address was of course her destination, thousands of miles away, an infinitesimal spot in a terrifying space. After all, you may easily come to fetch Mrs Ibstock when you need her. She flushed with desire and happiness, her husband had returned to her and all would be aright. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her.
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