I can’t love you. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. Then he put the paper by. Even in death, Vorsack was not a man. And look, again, at the women one finds letting lodgings. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. ‘Unless he is himself a man of substance. Annabel laughed a little uneasily. “There are a few fees. A disconcerting gray eye that had a mystifying depth. As they careened into a parking space, Lucy clung to the upholstery so as not to be thrown against the front seats. Later, she understood his reasons; and it had now become habit.
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