“How gratified she must have been! If only I had known I would have made an effort to get home in time for dinner. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. But those days are over—quite over. It could only mean one thing—that her foster daughter was both a whore and a murderer! When Sheila confronted her about it, it was five in the morning. If I do not look after her, she has no one. ‘I can see why you lost your place, young Kimble. . ” “Then may I come to the study to-night—after dinner?” “I’m—BUSY!” “It’s important. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. Oddly, he was seldom angry with her as Gianfrancesco would have been.
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