It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. I shall be very sorry if I cannot have you for a friend. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. “Yes. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. "This tongue looks remarkably nice," he added, slicing off an immense wedge, "excuse me—ho! ho!" "You make yourself at home, I perceive," observed Kneebone, with a look of ineffable disgust. ‘What happened, ma’am?’ enquired Gerald gently. Applying his ear to the keyhole, Jack listened, but could detect no sound.
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