She moved her hand off of his knee, deliberately slow. “He is addressing a meeting of his constituents somewhere,” Annabel answered. Mother had met with him two years before to begin the process of finding a match. ’ Colour suffused the man’s face. For what indeed does she do? A simple song, no gesture, no acting, nothing. All the sombre visions she had been pressing back, fighting out of her thoughts, swarmed over the barrier and crushed her. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. Light the lantern.
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