Everett’s gaze dropped to the papers in his hand. I said I’d do anything. She was an Egyptian, from the magical times. He was silent. He was looking pale and ill. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. Papa has sent me to be religieuse. Mr. My name is Annabel, not Anna. It seemed at first the most beautiful afternoon of all time to her, and perhaps the thrill of her excitement did add a distinctive and culminating keenness to the day. He pushed her to his bed, little more than a cot, and pulled off her clothes. Boys, at the time of which we write, were attired like men of their own day, or certain charity-children of ours; and the stripling in question was dressed in black plush breeches, and a gray drugget waistcoat, with immoderately long pockets, both of which were evidently the cast-off clothes of some one considerably his senior.
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