“Why not? They tell me that London is impossible till after ten, and I want my first impressions to be favourable. She drew in a deep breath of the sweet mountain air. And now for the fawney— the ring I mean. She was supposed to be reading at home, and after breakfast she strolled into the vegetable garden, and having taken up a position upon the staging of a disused greenhouse that had the double advantage of being hidden from the windows of the house and secure from the sudden appearance of any one, she resumed the reading of Mr. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. She hoped fervently that Martin had not divulged his crush to Brown. ” Annabel pulled down her veil to hide the tears.
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