More than ever a sense of confusion was upon Ennison. Annabel was conscious then of the slow anger which had been burning within her since the night of her visit to the “Unusual. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. “If you interfere between us,” the man said, “it will go hardly with you. The longing to talk to someone! But in the end she had gone to her room without giving in to the craving. Quite ordinary. ” She put her wrists upon his shoulders, feeling him surge with the pride of his own masculinity as she touched him.
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