“I do not like to seem inhospitable, Anna,” she said hesitatingly. “I do wish you and your father could come to some agreement. “You are a dear,” she exclaimed affectionately. He looked across at Annabel, and he groaned. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. That knot also would be cut. The Master of the Mint was accompanied by another gentleman almost as portly as himself, and quite as deliberate in his movements. Nor, he would wager, had the heroic Monsieur Valade, who had rescued her from that life and brought her to England, taught her in that short time all that Gerald was certain she knew of men. He became primitive, literal in his conception; the ramifications were, for the nonce, fairly relegated to limbo.
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