She looked at her for a moment fixedly. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. “I suppose I ought to congratulate you,” he said. The entrance was barred against them; and they had the additional mortification of hearing Sheppard's loud laughter at their discomfiture. It is abominable—” “What is the use of keeping up this note of indignation, Ann Veronica? Here I am! I am your lover, burning for you. “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. Unlocking it, he entered the chamber, which by no means belied its external appearance.
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