‘Whither away, mademoiselle?’ he said grimly, ungently grasping her arm above the elbow. The stage manager reappeared presently, and made a speech. He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face. “I shall send for a policeman,” Anna said, “directly my maid answers the bell— unless you choose to go before. Holding the lamp over her rigid but beautiful features, Jonathan, with some anxiety, placed his hand upon her breast to ascertain whether the heart still beat. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent.
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