She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. Annabel was conscious then of the slow anger which had been burning within her since the night of her visit to the “Unusual. '" "What is that?" she asked. Mr. He pressed the long shapely hand warmly in his. He went more easily this time. " "You are right," replied Darrell; "the weakness is past. It was a simple wish. Lucy saw that perhaps she had been attracted to Martin all along.
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