You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. ” “Annabel! Annabel!” Annabel stamped her foot. ‘Jacques! This—this bête he attacks me, and you stand there and you do nothing. He is a knight. Something, then, to appease the wrath of God; something to blunt this persistent agony. The age of this individual could not be more than twenty-one; his figure was tall, robust, and gracefully proportioned; and his clear gray eye and open countenance bespoke a frank, generous, and resolute nature. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. ‘Either you tell me why you want the wretched animal, or it stays here. Perhaps the day of her recompense was at hand.
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