She paused. “For me there is no second turn. It’s just that I want to say. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. Annabel thought, and thought again. And I want you for myself—for my wife. Tell me a story—with apple-blossoms in it—about people who are happy. I don’t want to stop your singing. “The fees are paid to the end of the session. When ninety per cent. She came quickly into the little parlour, which now seemed inordinately crowded, and coming up to Melusine, seized her hands in a warm clasp.
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