What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. ” Annabel leaned back in her chair and laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. Pale, flesh-colored light filtered in through the corners of the house. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. In mailing the tales he had not enclosed return postage or the equivalent in money. I demand it as a right. Hers was beauty on a large scale no doubt; but it was beauty, nevertheless: and the carpenter thought her eyes as bright, her complexion as blooming, and her figure (if a little more buxom) quite as captivating as when he led her to the altar some twenty years ago.
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