She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. He would have to make sure of her silence. Impressed with this idea, he paused for a moment to listen. A smile flickered upon her lips as she glanced towards Brendon, who was very serious indeed. In the afternoon my brain and fingers leap to their work because you have been with me. "A good idea!" exclaimed the carpenter. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. The mere enumeration of the obstacles that existed would have deterred any spirit less daring than Sheppard's from even hazarding the attempt.
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