Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. Accordingly, the old knight reduced his son's allowance to a third of its previous amount; and, upon further provocation, he even went so far as to alter his will in favour of his daughter, Aliva, who was then betrothed to her cousin, Sir Cecil Trafford. He wondered why she thought love made people happy, and began to talk of the smilax and pinks that adorned the table. Nothing stronger than water has passed my lips for years.
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