“You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. I'm thinking that the Wastrel was one day a celebrated professional; and the women were partly the cause of his fall. The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him. Anna was unimpressed. The eggs were all right, but nobody in this part of the world had the least conception of what the coffee bean was for. Mere formality. "Out of a family album, you said," Angelina reminded her sister. Having seen every precaution taken to ensure his safe custody, he departed, muttering to himself, "I shall yet live to see him hanged—I shall live to see him hanged.
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