He drew compellingly upon his new characters to keep him out of this melancholy channel; but they ebbed and ebbed; he could not hold them. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. She struggled against it quite uselessly. She pawed at him, her hunger for his body making her dizzy with anticipation. En tout cas, why had he not returned? She pondered the question as, later, she paced about her favourite retreat. Suddenly he stopped short. It will do its best to overlook things—” “If we let it, poor dear. He thought of his wealth for once from a different point of view. ” “And leave you here alone?” he asked, in a hoarse whisper.
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