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” “Annabel knew where I lived,” Anna continued slowly. " "It is," answered Wood. She sat very still, and his eyes rested on that ornament for a moment, and then travelled slowly to her wrist and the soft lines of her forearm. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. " And, having partaken of a hasty breakfast, he set out. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. “What ought you to do?” “I’ve hunted up all sorts of things. He talked with his manner gentle and kindly. But shortly this movement ceased.
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