She drew it out with shaking fingers. What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. Murder, I say, has been done! Another murder will be committed if you don't prevent it. “Annabel,” she said slowly, “if I fight this thing out myself, can I trust you that it will not be a vain sacrifice? After what you have said it is useless for us to play with words. ’ ‘Who were they?’ she asked abruptly. ’ The breathy laugh came, and Madame Valade abandoned her fan.
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