” Annabel shook her head. ” “Your secret is safe with me, sweetheart, as long as 114 you’ll lend your new friend Julian here a smoke. She herself, and one other there, recognized the interposition of something akin to tragedy. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. Sir Rowland laid his hand upon his sword. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation.
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