But at length, there was a click, and with a swish, the panel of painted books swung outward from the wall. It wound around a small manufactured lake. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. He looked no longer at his wife. For the first time it occurred to Ah Cum that the young man might not be quite conscious of his surroundings, that he might be moving in that comatose state which is the aftermath of a long debauch. Let alone a girl. “I know.
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