” Annabel laughed gaily. ” “I am very glad,” he answered, in a low tone. ” “No, I don’t. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. I was Annabel the rake, ‘Alcide’ of the music halls. ‘I told you I could handle her. A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality.
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