Spurlock (himself verging upon the hysterical) welcomed the diversion. “Your mother was a Gypsy. His lips parted in a rare smile. He looked across at Annabel, and he groaned. He waited for hours after dusk but she never arrived. The light was poor, so that she saw their gleaming faces dimly and indistinctly. "Mother, I come to you. . \" Shari said. "I find I was in error. “So, how’d it go?” Lucy sighed. “To your room!” Michelle cowered, her face flushed with anger.
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