All this was the work of a minute. Sheila’s own waif of a husband had objected to her airing the truth, he had even gotten the nerve to bring up the word divorce. “Annabel! God in Heaven, it is Annabel!” She did not speak. There was a wall; she was always encountering it; the one time she was able to break through this wall was when the part in his hair was crooked. Everything in his favour—the luck of the gods! The only white men were miles down the coast.
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