They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. Sheppard, gently, "nor do I need any. "What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. “Look here, father,” she said, with a change in her voice, “suppose I won’t stand it?” He regarded her as though this was a new idea. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. They turned the last corner, and almost immediately a man who had been standing there turned and struck Ennison a violent blow on the cheek. It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten. The next few hours will tell.
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