Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. "But calm yourself, dear sister, or the interview will be too much for you. Wood; "that's the surest way!" "No! no! give it me!" vociferated Wood, snatching the pistol, and rushing to the door, against which he placed his back. He rang the doorbell, even though she had already cracked the door for him. She had underestimated his animal ability to sense weakness. The clouds were nearly black with rain, threatening to spill sleet in daggers and torrents. He sees men all defiled by coarse thoughts, coarse ways of living cruelties. It’s—it’s a social difference. The arm about her was steel hard, and she felt the weapon that was placed at her heart, which thumped uncomfortably in her chest.
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