“Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. She gasped with pain, but she did not release her grip. “But—your people!” she gasped. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. I could see his little animal brain churning away, inventing plans for me, formulating his revenge. "The only disguise I ever put on is a dress-suit, and I look as natural as a pig at a Mahomedan dinner. " "Her ladyship will pass through it?" "Of course; there's no other way.
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