165 “Uh, my parents are going skiing in Colorado after New Year’s. Some indeed carried themselves, dressed themselves even, rather as foreign visitors from the land of “Looking Backward” and “News from Nowhere” than as the indigenous Londoners they were. Strange gurgle-like noises emanated from the crypt. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. Drummond smoked his cigarette meditatively.
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