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Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind. ” Lucy looked at the small shelf which was jammed with thick paperbacks by every major horror novelist of the twentieth century. The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him. He had seldom been more perturbed.
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