Whenever ecstasy— any kind of ecstasy—filled her heart to bursting, these physical expressions eased the pressure. Anna, who had sung the first verse of her song, looked around the house, a little surprised at the absence of the applause which had never yet failed her. As they left Florence, dying men and women still scrabbled through the streets, screams emanating from the rows of houses, beggars running up to the horses, sick children in their arms, their eyes bleeding, their noses running, begging to join them in their journey out. Annabel seated herself in an easy chair and determined to wait for her sister’s return.
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