She hated being angry, the uselessness of it all, the frustration. ” “You mean—you think——” “Hush! I think that he was concealed in my room, and Annabel and he met there. Her situation was perplexing her very much, and the Widgett atmosphere was lax and sympathetic, and provocative of discussion. “I believe you are quite right so far as regards the present, at any rate,” someone remarked, from the depths of an easy chair. A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. ” A shade of concern darkened Carol Diedermayer’s face. Montague Hill do not interest me in the least. When he returned, it was always the same. The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. He walked through a wide open archway, curtained with deep-blue curtains, into the apartment that served as a reception-room.
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