Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. ‘Just around it, Hilary, that’s all. "But it won't do. What he needed most in this hour was a bottle of American rye-whisky and a friendly American bar-keep to talk to. 62 <8> A FIRST DATE WITH JOHN DIEDERMAYER The weekend began for her with that luxury of all luxuries, sleep. ‘Not from the nuns, no. “I do not know you,” she said coldly. He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness.
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