Her shoulders began to ache. She had slapped him away with her free hand and the finger was released suddenly, sending her careening to the floor. The comtesse always felt Madame Valade to be not of her class, of course. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. “It’s jolly,” he said, “to feel you have come to me. Oh, Jack! repent, while it is yet time, of your evil conduct. ” The young man obeyed the summons. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. “A confusion of motives—that’s what I am!. .
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