They lived in a castle, the same place she had been turned in. Look at me. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. When I went I was refused admittance. I want to shout! I want to sing! I am glad! I am glad to be alive because you are alive! I am glad to be a woman because you are a man! I am glad! I am glad! I am glad! I thank God for life and you. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position.
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