” Annabel laughed derisively and took up her book. She heard it open, but as she felt unable to look round in a careless manner she pretended not to hear it. He screamed in pain, doubling over with a howl as she stumbled out of the bed. ‘And then you will be obliged to remain in France,’ she pointed out. He was silent. You'll find me at supper. Grandmothers and grandfathers and uncles and aunts … to love and to coddle lonely little girls. John’s father brought down a violin from a high closet shelf. His literary instincts began to stir. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved.
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