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Her sensitive ears could hear her foster mother snoring in front of the television. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. Pure romantic nonsense on her part. In all her life no living thing had had to depend upon her, not even a dog or a cat. It was astonishing how seldom it was that his instincts betrayed him. A bad man, in fact. The only mercy you can show me is to kill me.
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