” Annabel had been lying curled up on the lounge, the personification of graceful animal ease. She guarded her mother, or at least she had liked to think so. He squatted and threw his arm around the backs of her knees. Like most officers, he’d had it especially made, for a man who loved danger had need of a precision instrument of defence. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. Stunning and continuous, the din seemed almost to take away the power of hearing. He then descended; and having induced Bess to take off some part of her clothing, he tore the gown and petticoat into shreds and twisted them into a sort of rope which he fastened to the lower bars of the window.
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