I am your husband, though as yet your hand has scarcely lain in mine. Montague Hill?” Annabel put her hand suddenly to her throat and steadied herself with the back of a chair. She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation. “What has he to do with it?” “He was your sister’s master—her friend. Spurlock was fond of dogs; he was fond of this offspring of many mesalliances; but he never made any attempt to win Rollo, to share him.
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