He had spoken impressively, and most likely Anna, had she reappeared, would have met with a fair reception. “But, forgive me, you are tired. Make up your mind as to the terms, and I'll engage to find the man. ’ ‘Pah!’ ‘Precisely. “As my lady wills. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. Imitating the example of Mr. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent.
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