A note of belligerency had crept into his tone. “But how can you?” asked Constance. “You must play for us again sometime. But his words were borne away by the driving wind. . Mr. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. “You must not think of me as one. ” “Why in Heaven’s name should I forget?” he cried. I thought if you were living, and not captured, I should find you here,—and I was right. I’ve had enough of it.
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