"How is the patient?" he asked. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. "Spare me!" he groaned, looking upwards. She leaned over and kissed his cheek innocently. “I believe she’s dressing up-stairs—now. The minute he discovers Roding here, he’ll know something is up. I loved her and made love to her, and I don’t think she quite loved me back in the same way. I can’t stand it. Explain to Sir John our feelings. I tell you once more, I'll say and do nothing to get you into trouble. ’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease. I have come thirteen thousand miles for this young fellow; I'm ready to go galloping thirteen thousand more. ‘How did you guess?’ ‘I guessed as soon as you said this was your house.
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