Running his hand hastily over it, he was startled to find it one complicated mass of bolts and bars. There were white men with families, a fine mission-house, and a club-house for cards and billiards. Next to the receiver was a gang of housebreakers, laughing over their exploits, and planning fresh depredations; and next to the housebreakers came two gallant-looking gentlemen in long periwigs and riding-dresses, and equipped in all other respects for the road, with a roast fowl and a bottle of wine before them. “Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully. You’re tired, of course. The unpleasant oily chill of fever overtook her body, and she watched in horror as Sebastian carried her to his bed on his shoulder like a sack of flour. At any rate, it would be good to hear him saying the sort of things he did—perhaps now she would grasp them better—with this world-shaking secret brandishing itself about inside her head within a yard of him. She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing.
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