\" She sat down on a nearby bench. She was wan and white. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped. “I would rather put up with your own efforts, however clumsy. ‘They cannot help it. ’ She bit her lip, but her eyes betrayed her. He had been quite right to sit down. It hit her just above the knee. Over an old crazy bedstead was thrown a squalid, patchwork counterpane; and upon the counterpane lay a black hood and scarf, a pair of bodice of the cumbrous form in vogue at the beginning of the last century, and some other articles of female attire. “You asked me in to tea,” he protested.
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