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” “You are sure that he asked for me—not for Annabel?” “Certain,” Courtlaw answered. He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger. We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream. He appeared to be strangely uncommunicative, though I tried to draw him out. The family always managed to make it home for supper, even though it was a dying custom. There sprang from that a vague hope that perhaps she might extort a capitulation from her father by a threat to seek that position, and then with overwhelming clearness it came to her that whatever happened she would never be able to tell her father about her debt. "Come down stairs directly, and let your mother look at your wrist. He loved Ann Veronica, he said; he was so mad to have her that he defeated himself, and did crude and alarming and senseless things.
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