He drew an awed breath. “It was not necessary,” Sir John answered stiffly. He would have risen again, but for the significance of the action. It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. “You’re still,” he said, “in the educational years. When he awoke, it was late in the day; but though he heard voices outside, and now and then caught a glimpse of a face peeping at him through the iron grating over the door, no one entered the prison, or held any communication with him. Her sister had told him that it was true. He was a bad dog; he knew it perfectly; but where there was laughter, there was hope.
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