” She laughed gaily—and she had a way when she laughed of throwing back her head and showing her beautiful white teeth, so that mirth from her was a thing very much to be desired. Dim souls flitted about her, not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones. Tell me why you ran away from the convent. Shotbolt, who had in some degree recovered from the effects of his previous mortification, was thrown into an ecstacy of delight, and could not sufficiently exult over the prisoner. Probably a sick man's whim. Annabel thought, and thought again. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. I wasn’t. .
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