And here you are!” Her aunt opened all the fingers of her gloved hand in a rhetorical gesture. Annabel was conscious then of the slow anger which had been burning within her since the night of her visit to the “Unusual. There were a few loose, broken fragments of rock to reckon with upon the ledges, and one place where hands did as much work as toes. At the recollection that it was his, she seemed to fall through a thin surface, as one might fall through the crust of a lava into glowing depths. She knew Martha would not ask anything that she did not wish to know.
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