Breakfast was laid for one, a dish of fruit and a shining coffee equipage. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. “I meant to say good-bye to you to-night. ’ ‘Parbleu, it is I who am the idiot?’ she scolded furiously, removing one hand and digging it into her sleeve. "No, Sir, it's quite possible—more than possible. ‘You mean I should give myself a dressingdown? Very well. ’ A trifle discomposed at being caught examining his surroundings, Gerald was provoked into retort. As they entered the room beyond, a fierce growl was heard. He seemed to be thinking hard.
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