Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. She had agonized over it for weeks. “I have had a trying evening and I need rest. "I have nothing to forgive. ’ He quirked an eyebrow. They did not have to wait long. ” “Not long ago,” she said, “you left me in anger, partly because of this exchange of identities between Annabel and myself. And now, my love," she added, with a relenting look, "I'm content to make up our quarrel. His eyes closed. There was one letter. But something instinctive prevented that, and with the finest resolve not to be “silly” and prudish she found that whenever he became at all bold in this matter she became severely scientific and impersonal, almost entomological indeed, in her method; she killed every remark as he made it and pinned it out for examination.
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