“MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. Marvel, who, as he had helped to deprive her of her former husbands, thought himself in duty bound to offer to supply their place. Where's the dining room? And, say, can I have some eggs? This jam-tea breakfast gets my goat. “Annabel!” she exclaimed. She had been forced to buy herself that pair of boots and a walking-skirt, and the pearl necklace at the pawnbrokers’ had yielded very disappointingly. It had thrust her back with an undignified scuffle, with vulgar comedy, with an unendurable, scornful grin.
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