“I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. I am sure. The costume of this personage was somewhat singular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition. Wood, whose admiration for masculine beauty was by no means abated, glanced at the well-proportioned figure of the young man, and made him a very civil salutation. The knife is at my breast. I think not, Annabel. Then Courtlaw looked across at her with a white puzzled face. But, perhaps, you'll first accompany me to my dwelling for a moment, that we may arrange our accounts before we start. ” “Are you in a hurry,” she asked carelessly. . ’ Rather to his surprise, she obeyed this injunction as he led her up two flights of stairs to the first floor.
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