Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin. As she approached, the carpenter's wife eyed her from head to foot, in the hope of finding something in her person or apparel to quarrel with. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. Miss Annabel is her sister. He wondered why she thought love made people happy, and began to talk of the smilax and pinks that adorned the table.
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