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It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. You did not see me, I know. ” She thought more and more along that line. ” “You are willing to give up your position, your beautiful houses, your carriages and milliner’s accounts to come back to Bohemianism?” “Why not?” Annabel declared. Only a book detective could dope this out. The terrors and anxieties of the last few months seemed to have fallen from her, to have passed away like an ugly dream, dismissed with a shudder even from the memory.
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