For a few minutes all was silent. “It is true. I've been thinking about it ever since morning. Meet me. ‘But for how long?’ Lady Bicknacre asked apprehensively. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. ” Then she fell to thinking about her aunt. But such is the perversity of the human that frequently thereafter he purposely crooked the part in his hair, to give her the excuse to fetch the comb. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. ‘Would it so? What sort of a girl is she, then?’ ‘She’s a consummate devil,’ Gerald declared roundly.
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