” Ennison looked steadily at the cigarette which he was tapping on his forefinger. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. Submission to the inevitable carried her through the circumstances of her appearance before the magistrate. You’d think he wanted to meet the wretch again. ” Annabel laughed softly. He had mentioned teaching her how to read Latin one day when she had wandered into the library. Purney, the ordinary, who had latterly conceived a great regard for Jack, addressed him in a discourse, which, while it tended to keep alive his feelings of penitence, was calculated to afford him much consolation. Are you going to write a novel?” “Not I,” she answered gaily. She had learned this art in skirts, and knew well how not to be disadvantaged.
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