Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. Now lend me your own hand. But the aunt seized her in her arms and rocked with her. Let me say it to you. It is the bottom of the cup, where all the dregs appear to settle. ’ For the space of half a minute, Gerald continued to scowl in silent frustration. But in the train going home her aunt reasoned it out. Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco. ” “Oh no,” said Ann Veronica; “I have some work to do. .
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