The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. “Yes,” she said, “that is what we ought to do. She attacked me with a carving-knife, and, when I had disarmed her, the jade bit off a couple of fingers from my left hand. Oddly, he was seldom angry with her as Gianfrancesco would have been. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. He looked at her, hurt. ‘I knowed he were a wrong ’un, but that. “Those were good. “I suppose all life is an affair of chances. ” “And he sat at my table,” Annabel said bitterly, “and yet he did not know me. But, not daring to confess his want of comprehension, he made a profound reverence, and retired. Why was he there? why did the tempter dare to invade that sacred spot! She could not answer her own questions, but vague fearful suspicions passed through her mind.
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