‘Too late by the time I realised to what a dunderhead I’d pledged my friendship. Nor had Jack been idle all this time. It was a dark mysterious place, and what it was used for no one exactly knew; but it was called by those who had seen it the Well Hole. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. Maybe it’s his loss.
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