Lucy did not want to have to kill the mother, as she hated more than anything to kill women, no matter what their sins. It would be useless to tell her to go back, even heartless; and yet he could not advise her to go on, blindly, not knowing whether her aunt was dead or alive. “I want to find an address. ” She closed her mouth. “Isn’t that rather a strange question—under the circumstances?” he asked quietly. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. Ramage went up the Avenue, and she hurried along the path with a beating heart and a disagreeable sense of unsolved problems in her mind.
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