You know you do, Annabel. Mark stayed away from Lucy, which was just as Sheila liked it. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. I keep on thinking of you. On the way, he hired a chair with a couple of stout porters, and ordered them to follow him.
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