She could not resist enduing persons she met with the noble attributes of the fictional characters. \" Said John as he piled the papery remnants of their meal onto the tray. ‘Your niece, ma’am. I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. " "God help me, what a muddle!" The cigar crumbled in Spurlock's hand. It is in vain to struggle against the arm of fate. “But you must forgive me, John. By instinct. " "But that style isn't Oriental. Ramage!” she cried, and struggled to her feet.
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