” Annabel shivered a little and looked around her. She was silent. " Sir Rowland moved irresolutely towards the door, but recoiled before a sad spectacle. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. ‘Come inside at once, child. ” “Is my sister’s Christian name, then, of so much importance to you?” she asked with a faint smile. Anyhow, he did not sentimentalize her. “Then I will do what I can,” Anna promised. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. ‘And I have a very good mind to kill you.
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