She was a very elegant young woman, slightly taller perhaps than her sister, and with an air of reserved strength underneath her quiet face and manner which Annabel may have lacked. Miss Miniver learned of her flight and got her address from the Widgetts. ‘Did she call you that?’ asked Lucilla, amused. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. You would be alarmed of how sulphurous it is, how sickeningly sweet. But the Ramage affair needed clearing up, of course; it was a flaw upon that project. “You are beautiful, Lucy. Perhaps marriage hurt.
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