She answered slowly. ” Annabel no longer attempted to conceal her emotion. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. But she did not bother her head very much about her relations with these sympathizers. You dear, dear girl. To-night there seemed to be a new brilliancy in her eyes, a deeper quality in her tone. “I find it very hard to write this letter. . A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. “How are you?” He asked, realizing she was unnerved by the very sound of his voice.
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