And then you go—and half throttle me. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. Anna and her escort exchanged glances. “So I see that you have become content with your hardscrabble existence, your week-to-week survival, your Martin Chen!” “Who?” “Your limp-wristed lover!” “Um. ” “And for me,” Anna echoed. Do you know the story of Orpheus? He was a musician who followed his damned wife into Hell to bring her back? He was one of us, I believe. I shan't let you off a farthing. In seconds, they faced each other before the altar. For a moment none of them stirred; then slowly Enschede turned away. Spurling, who had been hastily compounding another bowl of punch. It tore her apart.
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