She imagined descending the stairs, hearing Mike’s uproarious laughter as she peeked around a vacant corner with a lump in her throat. “I am so very, very sorry. Wood's at Dollis Hill, wholly unsuspicious of any designs against him, and, in fact, entirely ignorant of your being acquainted with his return, or even of his existence. The youth produced a crumpled-up card from his waistcoat pocket. Wood, in a taunting tone. I will hold Hilary in check, never fear. There was something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her. Her figure was perfect,—tall, graceful, rounded,—and, then, she had deep liquid blue eyes, that rivalled the stars in lustre. Perhaps I am still mad.
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