"Your son," replied Jack,—"your miserable, repentant son. I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. “The plain common-sense of the case,” he said, “is that we can’t possibly be lovers in the ordinary sense. Neither combatant could use his sword; and in strength the fugitive was evidently superior to his antagonist. Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy. Then she reverted to the trousers. If it came at all, it was as fleeting as the girl's smile. A faint, delightfully humorous smile parted her lips. "Can you pull him through?" was the anxious question. She had thought to wear it now, since she must look more the demoiselle.
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