Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. ‘Ah, bah, it is enough,’ she cried, and turning, ran out of the room. Whatever he wrote he was: he became this or that character, he suffered or prospered equally. And what took you to Remenham House?’ ‘I shall come to that presently,’ said Gerald cautiously. No offence, I hope. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person.
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