Her father intercepted her, and for a moment she and he struggled with their hands upon the latch. She was an indignant queen, no doubt she was alarmed and disgusted within limits; but she was highly excited, and there was something, some low adventurous strain in her being, some element, subtle at least if base, going about the rioting ways and crowded insurgent meeting-places of her mind declaring that the whole affair was after all—they are the only words that express it—a very great lark indeed. “My name is Anna Pellissier, sometimes called Annabel. Give me my pistol and my dagger. "I give you all of my genius, and you say—'Get out!' I am some kind of a dog. Laugh on the wrong side of your mouth, now. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. Stanley. Eh bien, they would see about this. Lucy? Come 177 on out.
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