‘Desist, you little devil,’ he growled in her ear. “I hope,” Annabel answered lazily, “that you have succeeded. Though I’ll wager she used this passage, and we certainly ought to investigate it. ‘You ain’t got nothing on me. There was all the knavery, and more than all the drollery of a Spanish picaroon in the laughing eyes of the English apprentice; and, with a little more warmth and sunniness of skin on the side of the latter, the resemblance between them would have been complete. ” Chapter XXVI ANNABEL IS WARNED “You!” David Courtlaw crossed the floor of the dingy little sitting-room with outstretched hands. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget.
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