‘Ain’t my place, I know that. Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. His smile faded. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. “I wonder—I wonder if we shall ever get like that. And pouring the contents of a small powderflask into a bumper of brandy, he tendered him the mixture. She had viewed them askance, and without exchanging ideas with any one else in the world about them. The blue jowl, the fat-lidded eyes—now merry, now alert, now tungsten hard—the bullet head, the pudgy fingers and the square-toed shoes were all in conformation with the doctor's olden mental picture. There was a long silence between them.
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