He stamped his last letter as Annabel entered. "I cannot part with him," replied the widow, bursting into tears; "indeed, indeed, I cannot. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. Had she expected to wed Valade herself? Had the fellow broken a vow of betrothal, or abandoned her? He must find out more. But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that. He made it impossible not to respond, his arms tightening deliciously around hers. “You must arrest me!” she gasped, breathlessly, insisting insanely on a point already carried; “you shall!” The police-station at the end seemed to Ann Veronica like a refuge from unnamable disgraces. Most unsatisfactory. Or become a thorough-going typist and stenographer and secretarial expert.
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