” Annabel no longer attempted to conceal her emotion. Charvill’s fury was burning out. And the infernal thought of that kiss returned—the softness of her lips and the cool smoothness of her cheeks. The night had swallowed him up, but his work on her was done. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy. "If I am the devil," observed Wild, "as some folks assert, and I myself am not unwilling to believe, you'll find that I differ from the generally-received notions of the arch-fiend, and faithfully execute the commands of those who confide their souls to my custody. Anywhere! Moonlight and music—pleasing, you know, but quite unnecessary.
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