Ennison too, always handsome and debonnair, seemed transported out of his calm self. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. ’ ‘Yes, but I need a word with Gerald,’ protested the captain, hanging back. Spurlock remained where he was until the sail became an infinitesimal speck in the distance. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. I should as soon think of trusting a woman. But I will never—never return.
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