He stepped back further. " Ruth repeated the word, not in the effect of a query, but ruminantly. " "She? My God, the pity of it! She knows nothing of life. If you do not help me to read the riddle of yourself, Annabel, I think that very soon I shall be a candidate for the asylum. I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing. You can pay me when we return. You forget that every one is going to the ‘Unusual’ to see her. " "Anything, my dear," replied Wood, "What is it?" "Bury us together in one grave in Willesden churchyard. .
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