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I tell you this child would have been strangled. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. “You are a dear,” she exclaimed affectionately. He had no wish to go foraging in Spurlock's trunk. She came originally of country stock, and had been virtually in sole charge of Melusine almost from the hour of her birth—a thankless task, as Melusine had heard her bemoan countless times, with the rider that she had carried it out with a conspicuous lack of success. "Davies," said Rowland, delivering the babe, with a meaning look, to his attendant. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. And my word's law—with you, at least," she added, bestowing a cutting glance upon her husband. He reached the top floor and ran down the corridor to the little dressing room at the end where he had lost her before.
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