“Good-bye,” he said earnestly. A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. ” She yelled back. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile. If he wants you, let him get you. Do have another. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. But while there's life there's hope. “You are unjust and quixotic, Anna, you have no right to treat any one as you are treating me. “If you think it worth while,” she answered doubtfully. "Suppose he does. ” He mumbled, driving on. ‘I can answer that.
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