There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. Because I’m younger than you. But you are Annabel. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. ” “Well, why not?” Lady Lescelles asked, smiling. Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the person of Annabel Pellissier—the soul of a very different order of being. It was debauching, this—a devilish art which drew such strange allurements from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity. At length, the body was brought towards him. “I think as I feel in a good humour it must be the latter. ” “Every one must be experimental,” said Mr.
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