Ruth and Spurlock separated, the one embarrassed, the other utterly dumfounded. Annabel turned on the electric light and made her way into the sitting-room. She came along with the fluttering assurance of some tall ship. A brief feeling of empathy with Pottiswick passed through him. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. Sir John hesitated, and then continued. Yet he’s been here for six years, and he’s as much a fixture as that sham mahogany sideboard. Just as I might have killed another, if he had come out. As they careened into a parking space, Lucy clung to the upholstery so as not to be thrown against the front seats.
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