What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest. For fifteen years!—so long as I can remember! All I wanted was a little love, a caress now and then. Annabel, come to the door with me,” she added a little abruptly. She turned out the electric light and gained the hall. Stanley, in his effort to seem at ease, took entire possession of the hearthrug. But Jonathan, fixing a terrible look upon him, cried. “You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. CHAPTER XXX.
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