’ Lucilla let out a peal of laughter. “It is rather odd,” he said, “but I always thought that your name was Annabel and hers Anna. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. This she would not endure. It—it is nothing,’ she said, although with a tremor in her voice. Michelle looked her up and down, liking the results of her efforts. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end.
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