She went about, intentlooking and self-possessed, trim and fine, concealing her emotions whatever they were, as the realities of her position opened out before her. She chuckled. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. Why had she married him, off-hand, like that? She did not love him, or he knew nothing of love signs. A light was visible in the garret, feebly struggling through the damp atmosphere, for the night was raw and overcast. What Miss Miniver would have called the Higher Truth supervenes. Annabel saw it, and suddenly changed her tone. I am a little afraid.
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