“Annabel,” she said, “I have never asked you for your confidence. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters. She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives. “It is the first moment we have let him out of our sight,” Brendon exclaimed, as he hastened across the street. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. . I don’t think I’ve got illusions, nor you. “Why come after me after all these years, Sebastianus? Haven’t you found any sycophants to convert, any nubile young nymphets to bring into the cannibal flock?” “Why should I do that if there is still the chance of you?” “What if there could be no chance of me? How do you know you can have me?” “I see your game. His attraction for her was now written plainly on his freckled face, revealed by the many drinks he had imbibed. It loves to sit on your knee. “What are you doing?” he asked. Somehow I haven’t connected the idea with you. She had grabbed! She became less and less attentive to his meditative, self-complacent fragments of talk as she told herself this.
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