” “And he sat at my table,” Annabel said bitterly, “and yet he did not know me. Hadn’t the stomach to admit the truth, had he? I’ll lay any money he labelled you with some foul French name as well. ” “Until some one takes pity on me and marries me?” He raised his eyebrows in mild appeal. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. She described the Goopes and the Fabians to him, and gave him a sketch of her landlady; and he talked in the most liberal and entertaining way of a modern young woman’s outlook. I had no curiosity of that kind.
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