“She’s my wife,” the man muttered. The telegram reminded Ann Veronica that she had no place for interviews except her bed-sitting-room, and she sought her landlady and negotiated hastily for the use of the ground floor parlor, which very fortunately was vacant. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. When they reached her rooms she stepped lightly out upon the pavement. With a loud shout, and headed by a powerfully-built man, with a face as black as that of a mulatto, and armed with a cutlass, the rabble leapt over the barricades, and rushed towards the vehicle. I am sorry to seem to disobey you, but I am. Even an unlikely episode such as this could not be ignored. “I shouldn’t have waited,” she said. ” Annabel shrugged her shoulders.
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