‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. The weed was all right. ” “Not long ago,” she said, “you left me in anger, partly because of this exchange of identities between Annabel and myself. . It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. I tell you what, Mr. Stanley regarded him through his glasses with something approaching animosity. Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. "Do you know anything further of Sir Rowland?" he asked.
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