Annabel set her teeth hard, and turned fiercely towards Anna. Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. And it’s like the petals falling from a flower. Any one less courageous than himself would have abandoned the attempt from a conviction of its utter hopelessness; but, though it might for a moment damp his ardour, it could not deter him. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. But I know a little place where we’ll get a little quiet talk. Wood, terrified by the wildness of her looks.
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