” Annabel pulled down her veil to hide the tears. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone. ” She propped herself up on the massive oaken post of the bed, feeling the paralysis tingle her legs as it left them ever so slowly. . But it was clear she was in no mood for Teddys. ’ ‘Gone off?’ repeated Melusine, her wrongs rising up to tear into her chest.
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