This was the first young man who had drawn from her something more than speculative interest. He opened his eyes, protestingly, and beheld the realization of his dream. Annabel seated herself in an easy chair and determined to wait for her sister’s return. This done, Edgeworth Bess, who watched her opportunity, slipped out of the Lodge. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. “Did you ever see women so weary-looking and so dowdy? They do not talk.
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