” Chapter III ANNA? OR ANNABEL? Sir John was wholly unable to understand the laugh and semi-ironical cheer which greeted his entrance to the smoking-room of the English Club on the following evening. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. He stood away from her. With something near to horror they found themselves thus confronted. After this occurence, not a word was exchanged between them until they came in sight of the sloop, which was lying at anchor off Wapping. He had changed her life dramatically, and she had missed him dreadfully. We have met before. This was just what he needed. Come, make yourself scarce. ‘He lacked moral fibre, did Nicholas.
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