On the way home he was still thoughtful. Part of her felt like laughing insanely at how badly she had been duped. If you do not help me to read the riddle of yourself, Annabel, I think that very soon I shall be a candidate for the asylum. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. " "But a man may love his wife!" cried Spurlock, utterly bewildered. Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. .
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