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“Your father,” he said, “remarked that all’s well that ends well, and that he was disposed to let bygones be bygones. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. He took a handful of almonds and raisins that she held out to him—for both these young people had given up the practice of going out for luncheon—and kept her hand for a moment to kiss her finger-tips. ’ Gerald eyed her. ” She paused. “Annabel! Why, what on earth have you been doing to yourself, child?” she exclaimed. “I’ve been to hear you lots of times. Oh, what have you been about now?’ ‘There is no need to be concerned. Love was joy, and joyous she was when alone. Even if you were sick in the mind and did not understand what you were doing, it's a mighty cruel thing you have done. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. So, when I tell you she loves you, I know. " "But, mother, mayn't I sit up to see whether Thames returns?" implored Winifred. Few men could have done as much. She must not tell Martha about Gerald.

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