But it looked as if the boy was not going to be of much use. To her great surprise and mortification he was not alone; but brought with him a couple of friends, whom he begged to introduce as Mr. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. She was flushed, and her eyes were bright and angry; her breath came sobbing, and her hair was all abroad in wandering strands of black. He died in the war. He took a handful of almonds and raisins that she held out to him—for both these young people had given up the practice of going out for luncheon—and kept her hand for a moment to kiss her finger-tips. We tolerate you for your genius, that's a fact. Well, after all, he seemed to be turning the subject.
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