“Listen to me. ” She took the pocket-book and looked up at him with a little impulsive movement. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. She slipped out the window, jumping to the ground from the second story with very little sound. “I brought a man with me who is posted outside,” he remarked. “We have to be— modern. “Annabel,” she said slowly, “if I fight this thing out myself, can I trust you that it will not be a vain sacrifice? After what you have said it is useless for us to play with words.
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