” “Annabel Pellissier is married,” Courtlaw said quietly. She glanced into his face. Her lover surely did not 223 understand the implications of what he had asked for and his lust blinded him to the realities of existence even now. She had very frizzy hair indeed, very black eyebrows, a profusion of metallic adornments about her neck and waist, and an engaging smile. Was she a fool to wish a person of a disposition altogether not pleasing to marry her? Was it not true that he made a game with her very often? Had he not been extremely interfering from the beginning? And had he not kissed her, just when— Her thoughts skidded to a stop.
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