"I am innocent. Her fingers rested upon his. "Is my house to be made a receptacle for all your natural children, Sir? Answer me that. I should know you—in Heaven or Hell. Annabel thought, and thought again. "We're forgetting," he said. The popcorn dwindled to a half a bucket, his heart settled into its normal routine. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. Good night. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. She could not explain in words why they disappointed her or that she was disappointed.
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