"But what does he mean by calling you a wanton? —you, my wife?" Enschede's hand slipped from his daughter's shoulder. ” “Don’t tempt me,” she said, laughing, and drawing her opera-cloak together. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. “We will convince him now to the contrary,” Annabel answered. A young man with shiny frock coat and very high collar, advanced towards her languidly.
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