He turned the wheel carefully as he touched her neck with the other, threading her soft curls in between his slim fingers. Sheppard snatched back her hand from his grasp, and exerted all her force to repel his advances. For a moment she too had started and faltered in her exit from the room. “Annabel! God in Heaven, it is Annabel!” She did not speak. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. "Don't fire," cried the latter.
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