” “No,” cried Miss Miniver, almost vehemently. ” “You are sure that he asked for me—not for Annabel?” “Certain,” Courtlaw answered. ‘Dear me. ” Mr. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. “I’m so glad you’re here, Peter,” she said. She never touched the manuscript with pencil, but jotted down her notes on slips of paper and left them where he might easily find them. “Eight, Cavendish Square. Wood,—"he'll never mend.
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