“Women are mocked,” she said. See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once. But then, because my papa had no money, you understand, he sent me to a convent. She kicked him in the shin, trying to knock him off his feet. His tongue was more ready, his wit more keen than usual. ” Lord, he was right! But softly now. She must not tell Martha about Gerald. Bête, she told herself fiercely. ’ He sat looking her over in silence for a moment or two, his thoughts revolving around the name and the way it fitted so exquisitely on quite another set of features. Next instant, Gerald felt his wrist seized in an iron grip. . Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the person of Annabel Pellissier—the soul of a very different order of being. Then she came a few steps to meet him.
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