” Chapter II THE ADVENTURE OF ANNABEL The man spoke mercilessly, incisively, as a surgeon. It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and trimmed with lace. She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. “That,” she answered, “is far easier to believe. The great door of the Stone Hall was thrown open, and the sheriffs, preceded by the javelin-men, entered the room. So often as she had herself manipulated a dagger, she could not mistake the shape that pressured across her chest, or the sharp point that dug below her bosom. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers. He was all alone, like herself. He contrasted the lot of women in general with the lot of men, presented men as patient, self-immolating martyrs, and women as the pampered favorites of Nature. Anna came back into the sitting-room with a little sigh of relief. “My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive.
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