By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. “It is strange that we should have met Annabel,” she said. No: I must face it out. “Not really. Sometimes I think she’s tired of us. “I’ve gotta go. Sepulchre's bell is for ever ringing in my ears—oh!" "If that's the case," observed Wood, "I'm surprised you should like to have such a frightful picture constantly in view as that over the chimney-piece. That is not reasonable.
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