Let her have her own way in all things, for she will always be just. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. “I admired your sister in Paris,” he answered, “but I do not believe that I regard her now as altogether the same person. “Who the hell are you, Lucy?” “Promise me you will never tell anyone. “The very question shows your ignorance,” he declared. It was hard to meet that gaze. Remember ——” Annabel clutched her sister’s arm. She had begun to care about her appearance again, looking into the glass he gave her, a thing nearly priceless that was bordered in intricate golden filigree and rubies.
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