Loneliness. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo. 235 “No, I think she’s out sick with a throat infection. ” Lucy sat patiently as she was improved. He drew a little breath of relief. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. He was continually dramatizing the future, anticipating the singular role he had elected to play. Annabel had been here then.
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