That Capes should love her seemed beyond the compass of her imagination. When he came to a certain sentence in Brendon’s letter he stopped short and looked up at her. ‘That is imbecile. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. It was no use. You give her a daub here and there where the rust shows. I jumped then—I was not even shaken. ” “Yes,” said Ann Veronica, “I agree to that. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. “If it is a choice between the two,” she answered, “I must be Annabel Pellissier. Grasping one of chairs about the little table, he drew it forward and sat astride it, in a fashion as insolent as it was unexpected.
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