She had only to get through this, to solace Manning as much as she could, to put such clumsy plasterings on his wounds as were possible, and then, anyhow, she would be free—free to put her fate to the test. “These are the playgrounds of life. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. Even now she could trace the outline of his shape behind the left-hand curtain. The rest were hieroglyphic characters, executed in red chalk and charcoal. The face that looked down upon Ann Veronica was full of amiable intention.
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