Stanley came home at a quarter to six—an earlier train by fifteen minutes than he affected—his sister met him in the hall with a hushed expression. “Is it your maid?” he asked. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. ” “I am glad that you have a reasonable excuse for not having been to see me,” she said good-humouredly. He initiated sex with her, lightly fingering her clitoris as an invitation. I’ll mention it.
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