An admirable alternative presented itself and she sighed, spreading her hands. " And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. I thought that you were he. They said no more for a moment, and each was now acutely aware of the other. The doctor and another man were by his bedside when they entered the room, and there were writing materials which had evidently been used close at hand. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. " "And with some justice," replied Thornhill, drily.
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