But Spurlock was ever on guard, even when she fussed over his hair. Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered. Sheppard. “The Annabel who lives here, who sings every night at the ‘Unusual’? They call her by your old name. ’ He sat looking her over in silence for a moment or two, his thoughts revolving around the name and the way it fitted so exquisitely on quite another set of features. How can I tell you all I feel? I love you beyond measure. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. ” “Then come back. Why should WE hoard? We aren’t going out presently, like Japanese lanterns in a gale.
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