It was Annabel who spoke. Wood laughed louder than ever. The doctor walked over to the bed, folded his arms across his chest and stared down into the unabashed eyes of his patient. . He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever. It was not as bad a wound as she had at first thought, and the blood was only oozing now. So he marched into the street, primarily bent upon making the favourable discovery. ‘You are not sympathique in the very least. I change them in the morning at Cannon Street, and take my book as I come down.
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