“Ah, Vee,” he said, “that’s better! and kissed her back rather clumsily. ” Anna shook hands with Brendon—a young man also, but older and more selfpossessed than Sydney Courtlaw. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. “But how can you?” asked Constance. She was vaguely happy over this arrangement which put her in the wing across the middle hall, alone. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre. . A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming.
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