We had better have it over. He was only a younger son, and you know what trouble we had. The baby boy was delivered in a sea of black blood, born dead and blue, and strangled by plague. Prudence was the substance and Angelina the shadow; for Angelina never offered opinions, she only agreed with those advanced by Prudence. She 191 picked up the remote, usurping it of its dividing status between their bodies. “He was alive at four o’clock this afternoon,” she answered, “but the doctors give little hope of his recovery. And yet the moment I am safely out of the way you are content to dress yourself in my rags, to go and get yourself popular and admired and successful, all on my reputation. ‘Well, if that’s what the good Lord wants, then you’ll just have to accept it. It was her past now, not Annabel’s. Utter silence answered him. She had been so busy with life that, for a vast gulf of time, as it seemed, she had given no thought to those ancient, imagined things of her childhood.
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