They sat down at the dining room table which seemed empty and 259 huge in the stark, white-walled room. He stamped his last letter as Annabel entered. Then Gosse spoke again, answering the question in her mind. . ’ ‘It is so in a convent, you see,’ she explained airily. I have suffered—I have sinned—I have repented. Had he been trying to stop the grim descent, and had he dimly perceived that perhaps a fine deed would serve as the initial barrier? A drunken idea—a pearl in the midst of a rubbish heap. The benches running round the room, though fastened to the walls by iron clamps, had been forcibly wrenched off; while the table, which was similarly secured to the boards, was upset, and its contents—bottles, jugs, glasses, and bowls were broken and scattered about in all directions. She had lost her sense of direction, and was among unfamiliar streets. From his wallet he brought forth a yellow letter.
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