" "Then it was not a dream!" ejaculated Sir Rowland in a hollow voice, and as if speaking to himself. ” He rose from his chair, and walked restlessly up and down the room. I could always 108 tell right away whether my new foster home was going to be good or bad. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. My name is Annabel, not Anna. ” With a murmured word of excuse she glided away, and Courtlaw, who had come with a mission which seemed to him to be one of life or death, was left to listen to the latest art jargon from Chelsea.
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