“Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. “You must answer me, Annabel,” she continued. She opened one and found herself in a large untidy room set with chairs that were a little disarranged as if by an overnight meeting. The road which wound by Westbourne Green, gave him a full view of the hill of Hampstead with its church, its crest of houses, and its villas peeping from out the trees. Of all the entirely English women I know, you’re the only one with a French accent. So that it seemed to her the whole world had changed —the very light of it had changed.
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