” Chapter X THE TRAGEDY OF AN APPETITE Anna, notwithstanding her quiet clothes, a figure marvellously out of accord with her surroundings, sat before a small marble-topped table at a crowded A. Instead of English villas and cottages there were chalets and Italian-built houses shining white; there were lakes of emerald and sapphire and clustering castles, and such sweeps of hill and mountain, such shining uplands of snow, as she had never seen before. In a tall glass the rind of a Syrian orange was arranged in spiral form. "Have a moment's patience, Sir Rowland," returned Wild; "and you shall hear. Quite!” He sat in the arm-chair and took tea, and consumed several of the extra cakes which she had sent out for and talked to her and expressed himself, looking very earnestly at her with his deep-set eyes, and carefully avoiding any crumbs on his mustache the while. The entire family massacred. He seized a tray, squatted on the floor, and imitated the tom-tom. You did it on your own?” Ann Veronica smiled. One realized indeed then where the differences lay; the tender curves about Anna’s mouth transformed into hard sharp lines in Annabel’s, the eyes of one, truthful and frank, the other’s more beautiful but with less expression—windows lit with dazzling light, but through which one saw—nothing. “I don’t know. Her sleepless night had left her languid but not stupefied, and for an hour or so the work distracted her altogether from her troubles. Mike and Shari sat at the kitchen table eating potato chips.
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