His mouth softened a little. It seemed to solidify out of nowhere with a black-ice crackling of the air. Failure loomed like a cloud, and at the centre of it was the look that Karl von Wultendorf had given her, which for no reason had filled her with terror. That's your trouble, you never do, Anne said gently.
He looked at her over his shoulder, his profile shimmering against the fire. Behind his crooked wire glasses was a look she had never noticed before, but which she now recognised, If nature allows me to exist, forces me to exist, let her bear the consequences. God, is this how Karl used to look at us? She pretended to be drinking her tea, but it turned cold and congealed in the cup.
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