That poor child, trying to escape, and not knowing how. He haunted a state between hectic dreaming and mild delirium, and she found herself talking aloud to him. Great vistas of history opened, and she and her aunt were near reverting to the primitive and passionate and entirely indecorous arboreal—were swinging from branches by the arms, and really going on quite dreadfully—when their arrival at the Palsworthys’ happily checked this play of fancy, and brought Ann Veronica back to the exigencies of the wrappered life again. And she buried herself beneath the straw, which she tossed above her head with the wildest gestures. I didn’t dream, not even in my wildest dreaming, that—you might have any need of me. . ” Annabel looked intently into her glass.
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