On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. “I am afraid—I really think that one of us ought to go with you,” he said. ’ ‘Dear me. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. Sometimes we had the Illustrated London News and Tit-Bits. Around him were all the evidences of plenty. Mrs. ” He said admiringly. Gazing into each other's eyes with new-found rapture, neither observed the sudden appearance in the doorway of an elderly woman in travel-stained linen.
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