” Chapter III ANNA? OR ANNABEL? Sir John was wholly unable to understand the laugh and semi-ironical cheer which greeted his entrance to the smoking-room of the English Club on the following evening. “A wonderful piece of work,” he declared. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. It is I who took the burden of your misdeeds upon my shoulders that you might become Lady Ferringhall. And I don’t. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there.
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