Annabel rose to her feet.
"You are magnificent," she said, "but the steel of your truth is a
little oversharpened. It cuts. Will you let your servant call me a
hansom," she continued, opening the door before he could reach her
side. "I had no idea that it was so abominably late."
He scarcely saw her face again. She pulled her veil down, and he knew
that silence was best.
"Where to?" he asked, as the hansom drove up.
"Home, of course," she answered. "Eight, Cavendish Square."