She sensed he might try and wane on her doorstep. ‘You are not the only one to seek them out,’ he said. Unobserved, she knelt and kissed the threshold: for she knew what kisses were now. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. “No, not that I know of,” Michelle replied, her still eyes not meeting Lucy’s. She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern. And so bitterly did the carpenter reproach himself with his neglect, that he resolved, at all risks, to go back in search of it. “Show me around you house, John.
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