" "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. Her aunt was making herself cuffs out of little slips of insertion under the newly lit lamp. Come to take leave. ” “He imposed on me,” Annabel continued. On some insane score she fancied she had to state her case in verse. Anna, my love, you cannot have forgotten so soon. . Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. They do a good job, huh?” He smiled at her.
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