“We are clerks in the same bank. . I was Annabel the rake, ‘Alcide’ of the music halls. She no more realizes what she has done than a child of eight. Sometimes her straying mind would become astonishingly active—embroidering bright and decorative things that she could say to Capes; sometimes it passed into a state of passive acquiescence, into a radiant, formless, golden joy. ‘Idiot. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest. “If I am,” he answered, reddening, “you can scarcely assert that it is without a cause. Brendon suggests supper at the Carlton.
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