"What's the use of wasting a shot?" rejoined Jonathan, savagely. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. Dreams of adorable infants danced through her head as she cradled blankets in her arms. It is not, my dear Veronica, that I think there is any harm in you; there is not. Can't I make you understand? Perhaps it sounds cruel to you; but we women often have to be cruel defensively. As he crossed this chamber, his foot struck against something on the floor, which nearly threw him down, and stooping to examine the object, he found it was a key.
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