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"Von't you hear me?—ough! ough!" demanded Sharples, after a pause. On searching the coat, he found, amongst other matters, a mask, a key, and a pocket-book. “Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully. She had intended to be quietly dignified, but he was in a smouldering rage from the beginning, and began by assuming, which alone was more than flesh and blood could stand, that the insurrection was over and that she was coming home submissively. “I am sure of it. When they came to the round-house, Terry's courage failed him. She was gone. Even that he was an interfering person, if he walked through that door this moment, she would fling herself at him and weep all over his chest. Perhaps it was loneliness. Ruth met him in the hall as he was following his family into the dining room. I am your servitor.
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