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. “You are the most perfect, the most glorious of created things—tender, frank intellectual, brave, beautiful. I can’t help it. His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. Tum, tum, tirray, tum, tum, tum, te-tum—that thing of Mendelssohn’s! If making one human being absolutely happy is any satisfaction to you—” He held out his hands, and she also stood up.
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