" Half an hour later she laid aside the book. “God in Heaven, Annabel!” he cried. Tight. He spoke the automatic thought that entered his mind. “And yet in a very few weeks I shall have done with it all. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know. Absolutely. I would be chased by every curious party on this planet, by vampireseekers, by witch-hunters, by researchers, you name it. “Earning a salary!” “You’re like a Princess in Exile!” he repeated, overruling her. ‘You will not believe any of my very clever lies. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. Martin’s crush. ‘My name’s NOT More, Mr.
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