Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. She had grabbed! She became less and less attentive to his meditative, self-complacent fragments of talk as she told herself this. "I don't see how I can improve it. Is all that folly done with—for ever?” Annabel shivered ever so slightly. ‘Come, I told you I wish to know everything about you. ” He sidled toward her, but she recoiled from him, leaving him in possession of the hearth-rug. He crawled underneath the covers with her. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. That night a grave was dug in Willesden churchyard, next to that in which Mrs.
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