‘That is the man who tries to kill me, but he wounded instead my servant. “How is that carmine working?” he asked, with a forced interest. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. Annabel laughed a little uneasily. “Thank God,” he exclaimed. With this view, he descended the hill and presently found a footpath leading to the church. ’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them.
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