“Rummy lot we are!” said Roddy. “You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. It had not tasted good since 1350. In all her life no living thing had had to depend upon her, not even a dog or a cat. Oh! my dear, dear son, be warned in time. If hopeless love for her made me a robber, it has also saved me many a crime. He had plugged along, if not happy, at least with sound philosophy. She felt that she had passed a difficult corner, and that now she could go on talking with him again, just as she had been used to do before she understood what was the matter with her. Mac—the old gossip—knew about everything going on in that part of the world; and if Enschede was anything up to the picture the girl had drawn, McClintock would have heard of him, naturally. “A nice time of anxiety you’ve given me, young lady,” he said, as he entered the room.
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