Ann Veronica decided she would have to go on with Capes another day, and, looking up, discovered him sitting on a stool with his hands in his pockets and his head a little on one side, regarding her with a thoughtful expression. Wood's astonishment and displeasure momentarily increased. Sebastian, as doctor, was constantly around the sick and the dying. Such pretty manners, she thought. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. “An annuity—a sum of money paid to you yearly or quarterly through my solicitors, and which you can consider as a gift from your sister. “I cannot reason with you,” he said at last wearily. He was a comforting, humorous old ruffian; but there were few men in the Orient more deeply read in psychology and physiognomy. A pair of startled blue eyes looked up into his. There must be real Valjeans, else how could authors write about them? Supposing some day she met one of these astonishing creators, who could make one cry and laugh and forget, who could thrill one with love and anger and tenderness? Most of us have witnessed carnivals.
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