She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. He glanced at the ruins of his High Priestess. Rats and things crawling all over. Not a job he may care about; but he's a good sport. The three clerks fought for the only window, and saw her whisked into a hansom. Then they rode off at speed. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. He’s got flowers. ’ The lady’s face came round, a puzzled frown on her brow. She could see that she was now the exclusive object of the boy’s attention. A faint, delightfully humorous smile parted her lips. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped.
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