“Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. They were followed by Jonathan, who carried a stout stick under his arm, and planted himself near the stone. A feeling of inexplicable awe crept over the carpenter as the sounds died away. ‘Étes-vous Francais?’ Her eyes, he noted, followed from himself to Hilary and back again, but she did not speak. Her state of mind would have seemed altogether discreditable to her grandmother. The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor. Is all that folly done with—for ever?” Annabel shivered ever so slightly. I wouldn't keep an apprentice to set my authority at defiance.
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