You will be under the eye of the best friend I have; and if you do not treat that child for what she is —an innocent angel—I promise to hunt you across the wide world and kill you with bare hands. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. Courtlaw opened his lips, but remained silent in the face of her imperative gesture. One of her duties, after she had been taught to read, had been to read aloud after breakfast and before going to bed. “Beats me. ” “You do not deny that you are my wife,” he asked hoarsely.
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