‘I told you I could handle her. Talk to her of the new story; divert her; for this day her heart has been twisted sorely. “I suppose I ought to congratulate you,” he said. There was another phrase which sounded something like 'Gin in a blue-serge coat'. But, you see, I’m smirched. She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. Her lips came together with an expression between contentment and the faintest shadow of a smile, her manner was one of quiet reserve, and behind this mask she was wildly discontented and eager for freedom and life. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely.
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