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She dreaded living off the land again, like an animal, as she had done for dozens of years at a stretch. Ennison, who had been standing with his back to the window, came suddenly a little further into the room. "What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley. He obeyed, letting the garment fall to the floor. As she did so the preparation-room door opened behind her. And so gentle as the poor creature is, when she's not in her wild fits—it would melt a heart of stone to see her. He was dressed with the utmost care, and he set his feet upon the broad walk as though the action were in some way a condescension. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure.
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