Annabel seated herself in an easy chair and determined to wait for her sister’s return. It was at the top of the building, and looked clear over a clustering mass of inferior buildings toward Regent’s Park. The meat was coarse and disagreeably served. “I cannot say more. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. Almost light-heartedly. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. ‘Lover’s tiff indeed.
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