“Election be hanged!” he exclaimed. They were really very fine and abundant, with a blaze of perennial sunflowers behind them. During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers. Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. Things happen out this way. When she spoke, her lips twitched. A shy virgin bride would not press her thigh sinuously against his, nor consent indeed to this clandestine little comedy he had been playing.
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