Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared. "Lady Trafford would not have thus condemned me!" cried Thames. Gerald saw her extract something and leapt aside, calling a warning to Hilary. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. Her depression since the “accident” had possessed her, she no longer cared how she looked as her beauty helped her not. You tell me he didn't like the stuff. And don't neglect my instructions this time.
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