“I went to Anna’s rooms because I felt that I must see her. He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout. Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered. What else could he do? You can’t kick up a scene on the spur of the moment in the face of such conflicting values as he had before him. Now if she sent fifteen pounds the suggestion that she had spent a five-pound note in the meanwhile would be irresistible. I just thought perhaps a different boy was in store for you. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. She set her fingers in the hair and tugged, drawing him to a sitting posture and stooping so that her eyes would be on the level with his when he awoke.
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