Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. 58 \"Why will you not touch me?\" She cried out, sitting up, her head in her hands. ” She looked around the apartment again. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. "Eggs for me! You mistake, child. He continued alternately to be tossed in the air, or rolled in the kennel until he was borne out of sight. Fortunately, ever since Wild's late murderous attack, the household has all been well armed. We must wash out those stains up stairs, and burn the cloth. CHAPTER XXIII.
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