It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. “I admired your sister in Paris,” he answered, “but I do not believe that I regard her now as altogether the same person. If you have not been arrested, we have been disturbed; and it is but just and reasonable you should pay for occasioning such disturbance. When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame. The doctor jumped to his feet. She launched into a stuffy Partita 89 and played it too fast. Then she goes to a dramatic agent. .
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