She turned a resolute face southward. He would have to go on; he would be forced to enact all the obligations he had imposed upon himself. Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages. There was no need of sowing suspicion when he wasn't really certain there were grounds for it. She twisted her fingers tightly. Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared. It is enough to make a man throw away canvas and brushes into the bottomless precipices, enough to make one weep with despair at his utter and absolute impotence.
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