She had lost it. The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. Suppose he stopped all her allowance, made it imperative that she should either stay ineffectually resentful at home or earn a living for herself at once. She saw it, and checked without thinking. He trembled violently. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. But there have been times, Anna, when your work has startled me. Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. A thousand dollars is a lot of money for an author to earn. Her desires were not for riches. ” She nodded. . . “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. " "But not for me," growled Terence, in an under tone.
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