The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. “I suppose all life is an affair of chances. It would surely be only common politeness to drop her a hint—a fellow countrywoman too. ‘Don’t put me at the necessity of marrying the abominable little wretch. Reaction set in and she leapt at him, beating at his chest with her fists. I do not know how I shall get it, but I must, you understand. She found herself talking to Capes in an undertone of rational admission. ” Annabel clutched her sister’s hands.
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