Ennison started and looked anxiously at Anna. He went in and leaned, panting, against one wall. She shuddered; the room was unfamiliar and unwelcoming. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. “Your name, I believe, is——” “Pellissier,” Anna answered. She dragged the broken bottle across her carotid artery, creating an inch-deep gash upon her throat. The truth at once flashed across his mind. Like the nuns, she hardly ever looked in a mirror. He was still flashily dressed, with much obvious jewellery and the shiniest of patent boots, but his general bearing and appearance had altered for the worse.
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