“Yes,” she answered, looking away. Nigel Ennison, Annabel. She remembered Taber's hat. "You two … both of you! But for you I couldn't have done it. There it is. Cathy rushed out from the kitchen, all smiles, with Lucy behind her. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. Capes looked at one and not over one, spoke to one, treated one as a visible concrete fact. ‘And then vanished into thin air,’ rejoined Hilary on a sardonic note.
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