It had been part of her wedding trousseau, a gift from her family to his. “Idiotic, isn’t it?” “Absolutely,” she agreed coldly. "Even if you are not a principal, you are an accessory. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. And I want him out of uniform. Guiltily, she felt very little for him, and yet she wondered what he would be like. Try something. May I do so to-day?” “It’s your gate,” she said, amiably; “you got it first. ’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You must be got rid of, that is seen. ” He hesitated, and walked away from her toward the house. “Sufficient unto me is the change thereof,” he said, with all the effect of an epigram. It is a matter of degree. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. You make me angry, and I lie.
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