“You are wrong! I did not think you thought such things. Annabel seated herself in an easy chair and determined to wait for her sister’s return. Lost, stolen, or strayed, the Young Person!. ” Annabel looked intently into her glass. “How gratified she must have been! If only I had known I would have made an effort to get home in time for dinner. Don’t you think that the shade of my hair is lovely?” “There is nothing particular the matter with the shade,” Anna answered, “but it is not nearly so becoming as before you touched it. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. She screamed involuntarily—she had never in her life screamed before—and then she began to wriggle and fight like a frightened animal against the men who were holding her. Her usual dignified reserve had availed her nothing. She saw his face change, how he regretted.
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