S. “Nigel, don’t you understand. Five hours later she tiptoed down the hall and paused at the threshold of what they now called his study. ” “Well,” she said, “has there not been some reason for this? The likeness to Annabel could scarcely have escaped remark. She pointed suddenly at the portrait. Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers. Her heart thudded. The little pucker in her brows became more perceptible.
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