At Boulogne they took train to Basle; next morning they breakfasted together in the buffet of that station, and thence they caught the Interlaken express, and so went by way of Spies to Frutigen. And then she fell into a musing about Capes. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. It has. ‘She’s terrified. Stanley,’ I said. “You certainly got him in the bag. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. You have been going out every morning, and coming home late—tired out—too tired to come down to dinner. He raised her to a sitting position.
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