He bore it as long as he could, watching all the time with fascinated eyes Annabel moving gracefully about amongst her guests, always gay, with a smile and a whisper for nearly everybody. Her softly intertwined fingers became rigid. The unfortunate carpenter struggled violently, but ineffectually. There was no one at all in this room, but through the half-open door of one of the small apartments that gave upon it she had a glimpse of two very young girls sitting at a littered table and writing briskly. “You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. He went into the study and sat down at his table, but not to write. It is useless to talk. “Mike, what’s going on?” She sat up, groggily rubbing her eyes. Out of the beaten track, far from the trails of men! He relaxed.
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