Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. Presently he heard her voice. Bribble’s rendering of the service —he had the sort of voice that brings out things—and was still teeming with ideas about it when finally a wild outburst from the organ made it clear that, whatever snivelling there might be down in the chancel, that excellent wind instrument was, in its Mendelssohnian way, as glad as ever it could be. Now the sense of beauty was spreading to a multitude of hitherto unsuspected aspects of the world about her. The world, perhaps, will be educated out of its idea of fixed standards. White and Miss Ellicot laid each a hand upon his arm, one on either side. I’ll take over here. ” Anna promptly alighted with the letter in her hand.
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