The old man Pottiswick, still grumbling, much to Melusine’s disgust, had gone on his errand to his daughter’s house some two miles distant. It was Annabel who spoke. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. “Are you speaking to me?” she asked calmly. ‘Come, come, ma’am,’ he said smiling. Conscientious objectors to that process are not permitted, she found, in Canongate. This was the bitterest hour he had ever known. Startled by the cry, as may be supposed, the attention of the whole congregation was drawn towards the quarter whence it proceeded. ” The money would be available in the afternoon, and she would send him four five-pound notes. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. 132 “I thought you wanted me—you told me so when we kissed in the park!” He cried. ” Annabel leaned back in her chair and laughed till the tears stood in her eyes.
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