“Annabel! God in Heaven, it is Annabel!” She did not speak. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. The two friends contrasted strikingly with each other. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. He grabbed her hair viciously and whispered loudly into her tear-streaked face. Not wisely but too well. Soon the trunk, portmanteau and hat box were ready. I have told you. Every girl in the world practically, except a few of us who teach or type-write, and then we’re underpaid and sweated—it’s dreadful to think how we are sweated!” She had lost her generalization, whatever it was. . " "No—no," laughed Jack. You are much more like what I was then.
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