Annabel seated herself in an easy chair and determined to wait for her sister’s return. There was a concerted gasp of shock from both the black-garbed lad and the coachman. He returned her impressive greeting almost mechanically. Wood, was much better furnished with eatables than might have been expected, and boasted a loaf, a knuckle of ham, a meat-pie, and a flask of wine. She loved to be there, taking part in it all, breathing it, being it. " "You may see the marks on the child yourself, if you choose, Sir," urged the widow. ” Lucy blinked from the winter sunlight and reached behind herself to yank at her hood.
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