Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. I ought to have seen—” “It doesn’t matter a rap—if you’re not disposed to resent the—the way I behaved. ‘Read that,’ and threw the telegram at me, so that it went into the tureen. She had found him! Excitement welled. She got out of bed, her eyes still half-closed, and stood slack jawed. Of course, it really signified nothing in this careless part of the world that she was travelling alone.
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