If you do not help me to read the riddle of yourself, Annabel, I think that very soon I shall be a candidate for the asylum. “What made you marry him? What made you leave Paris without a word to any one? What made you and your sister exchange identities?” “There is one answer to all those questions, Nigel,” she said, with a nervous little shudder. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. I’m sick of this town and I can’t wait to get out. Doctor Ralph came in to tea and put his arm round Alice and kissed her, and Alice called him “Squiggles,” and stood in the shelter of his arms for a moment with an expression of satisfied proprietorship. ’ ‘And now we know also who is the prétendant, Mademoiselle Charvill. Now I’d like the rest of your story. ‘Imbecile.
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