“He is Annabel’s husband,” she reminded him. “Very,” said Mr. Mother—dear mother!" he added, clasping her in his arms, "Look at me again. This time he couldn't get far. Me, you may have. Washed in light from the vestry window, she held her ground, all thought at bay, bar the steel determination long ago instilled in her by her unconventional tutor. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. She tiptoed to the stand and gathered up the manuscripts which she carried to a chair by the window. Influenced, probably, by what he had heard from Mr.
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