“You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. \" He rose and departed. She drew it out with shaking fingers. They were alike in one phase—loveless and lonely. She let her mind run into dreams of that cloud paradise of an altered world in which the Goopes and Minivers, the Fabians and reforming people believed. But I can easily bring in a sing-song girl to play for you. A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. “Shut up, you little faggot. “You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly.
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