” Annabel pulled up her veil. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” It was as much an accusation as a question. You told me just now that you wished to speak a few words to me in private, concerning Thames Darrell, and for that purpose I have left my father below with Mr. ‘Jacques?’ she called. She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain. ” She laughed gaily—and she had a way when she laughed of throwing back her head and showing her beautiful white teeth, so that mirth from her was a thing very much to be desired. I believe I am doomed to be an old maid.
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