“Annabel! Why, what on earth have you been doing to yourself, child?” she exclaimed. Bodies were piled high in the streets, Sebastian went on rounds and would come back late at night, reporting horrors and robberies, death that came within hours, not days. Better get a dress. Annabel, tell me that you did not wish me dead. A sob was strangled in her throat. A silver necklace enhanced the dusky beauty of her neck. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl.
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