Good-bye, Anna!” Annabel sprang up. His eyes were red. A cat came and rubbed herself against him as he entered the house, and seemed by her mewing to ask him for food. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware. What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience. Both had very singular faces; very odd wigs, very much pulled over their brows; and very large cravats, very much raised above their chins. Not content with this exhibition of her prowess, the Amazon lifted him up as easily as if he had been an infant, and placed him upon her shoulders, to the infinite delight of the company, and the increased distress of his mother. Stanley, having pretended to linger to smoke, fled suddenly up-stairs to petrography, and when Veronica tapped he answered through the locked door, “Go away, Vee! I’m busy,” and made a lapidary’s wheel buzz loudly. Had she too been flying from something and had accepted this method of escape? But what frying-pan could be equal to this fire? All this led him back to the original circle. He suspected a trap. They got in my mouth. “Don’t be an ass, Ferringhall,” he said tersely.
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