He felt that he was getting on with her very slowly indeed, but he did not see how he could get on faster. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. ‘My God!’ he said, ‘I’ll go after them and kill him. A small handgun bobbed at the end of it, aimed at Sheila. It was horrible, but what could she do? She meant to live her own life, and he meant, with contempt and insults, to prevent her. ” Chapter XXVI ANNABEL IS WARNED “You!” David Courtlaw crossed the floor of the dingy little sitting-room with outstretched hands.
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