“Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. Supposing she saw the young man at dinner that night, emptying his bottle? She could not go to him, sit down and draw the sordid pictures she had seen so often. And so sudden and well-directed was the assault, that he completely overthrew his gigantic antagonist. What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless. She had decided that she would spend the next morning answering advertisements in the papers that abounded in the writing-room; and so, after half an hour’s perusal of back numbers of the Sketch in the drawingroom, she had gone to bed. He had barely said, \"Anytime,\" before she shut the door rather rudely in his face. Never! Perhaps some day, quite soon, she might regret that breakfast-room.
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