Annabel turned on the electric light and made her way into the sitting-room. And also she didn’t like them. The benches running round the room, though fastened to the walls by iron clamps, had been forcibly wrenched off; while the table, which was similarly secured to the boards, was upset, and its contents—bottles, jugs, glasses, and bowls were broken and scattered about in all directions. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. But from the rest—you saved me. Yesterday this glorious creature had loved him; to-day she was only friendly.
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