His example was followed by Darrell. And you think I would marry you?’ ‘Why not? I am unworthy, eh? Because I am a servant. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. “I cannot reason with you,” he said at last wearily. But it is my fault. Then you will begin to see. The affair was thick with sinister suggestions. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. ‘Well?’ she said.
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