“What do you mean, Annabel? You only knew Mr. As O'Higgins signed the hotel register, his keen glance took in the latest signatures. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. Here was one that subtly mocked her. Of you, I mean. Save my seat. ‘You know perfectly well that she is the daughter of the Comtesse de St Erme. The doctor reached over and laid his hand upon Spurlock's heart. It is abominable—” “What is the use of keeping up this note of indignation, Ann Veronica? Here I am! I am your lover, burning for you. And you promised to tell me. ‘And so?’ she asked.
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