” “Annabel, are you mad? To England! You are joking, of course. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. To-morrow at twelve I'll be with you, Mr. I always fall on my feet, you know. Then he took me out to Monteaux, on a motor. Next instant he had her immobilised, her hands behind her back, her chest crushed to his, the white veil slipping once again. How did you like Tristan?” Ann Veronica paused the fraction of a second before her reply came. Smith's solitary orb followed in the same direction. CHAPTER VIII.
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