" "But a man may love his wife!" cried Spurlock, utterly bewildered. Lucy sized up the girl. Jonathan gave utterance to a low whistle. She was, she guessed, close to the library. “Annabel,” she said brusquely. She had never been to the opera before except as one of a congested mass of people in the cheaper seats, and with backs and heads and women’s hats for the frame of the spectacle; there was by contrast a fine large sense of space and ease in her present position. Her eyes were perhaps a little brighter than usual, the firelight played about her hair, there seemed to him to be a sudden softening of the straight firm mouth. He liked to be near me, he liked to be near any female, especially a young female. .
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