‘Let me tell you,’ went on the nun severely, ‘it would have been better for you if you had taken the veil. But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. There was no need to be afraid for me. The destroying angel hurried by, shrouded in his gloomiest apparel. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. But you must allow me to observe, my good Sir, that you're wholly in the wrong respecting my friend. But underneath this tolerance there is always the vague hope that your manhood will someday reassert itself. “You yourself have decided that—apart from the question of Annabel. It generalized everything she put to it. A brief calm succeeded.
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