Her husband was drinking in the tavern with the other guests. Mrs. What!— you know so little of that child? She ran away from you. God, how old are they now? They must be teenagers. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. It is the only way. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. Earles watched her anxiously. ” He left at once, immensely relieved, yet scarcely satisfied with himself as regarded his share of the interview with this young woman. “Well, make sure you use something. I have nothing, nothing that can possibly be passion for you.
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