The class laughed, a few putting their hands to their foreheads in a military salute to mock her. It had been intensified and corrupted by time, as if to add insult to injury. That last year in Paris, when Annabel and she had lived in different worlds, had often been a nightmare to her. The windows of these rooms were obscured with draperies, their floors a carpet patchwork; the china ornaments on their mantels were of a class apart. Hilary could not have suggested such a thing. The youth with the hair brushed back and the spectacled Scotchman joined in the fray for and against the women’s vote. Let me go my own way towards them. ’ ‘Success?’ Her eyes narrowed.
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