“Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. ” “You are a marvellous courier,” she declared, as they passed into the street. You will be—my wife. There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. It was enough that Spurlock had been taken aboard The Tigress. Beneath the hood it was evident that her rebellious hair was bound up with red silk, and fastened by some device in her ears (unless she had them pierced, which was too dreadful a thing to suppose!) were long brass filigree earrings. ‘Yes, that is what the nuns they said of me. I am a thing to be used. And yet to Spurlock it was only the title of a story he would some day write.
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