Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him. Every house-top, every window, every wall, every projection, had its occupants. Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose himself to slumber. The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist. You’ll need that. "Zounds! what's that!" he cried, as the noise of a scuffle was heard behind them. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains. Indeed, it seemed inevitable that she must clear it up with his assistance, or not at all. Spurlock had better stick to the bungalow. ” “He imposed on me,” Annabel continued. It's a sorry world," he went on. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously. “I expected to stay with a relation, but I found that their arrangements did not allow of it.
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