That last year in Paris, when Annabel and she had lived in different worlds, had often been a nightmare to her. Here was the corner-stone of a capital story; but he knew that Howard Spurlock would never write it. Not very long, if you want to get well. . But I liked to say it. Now tell them why. The curtain came festooning slowly down, the music ceased, the lights in the auditorium glowed out, and Ann Veronica woke out of her confused dream of involuntary and commanding love in a glory of sound and colors to discover that Ramage was sitting close beside her with one hand resting lightly on her waist.
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