“So it seems that I was wrong. “Where to?” he asked, as the hansom drove up. “You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. This became very interesting. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. There were moments when she thought of turning upon this man and talking to him. ‘Let me see if our minds are attuned.
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