Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. Her body was perpetually tanned, despite the approach of winter. Is this man Hill dead?” She shook her head. Take care of the old clothesman, and leave the rest to me. You refuse me your confidence. While he was thus musing, two horsemen rode past him; and, proceeding to a little distance, stopped likewise. She was curious to know why he had boarded a dingy train instead of hailing a cab or his own private chauffeur like the others in expensive suits were doing. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. But a far greater affliction was in store for her.
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