It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. The thought of the picture but added to her despondency. Her hair got loose, her hat came over one eye, and she had no arm free to replace it. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him. "How do I know you are a friend?" asked Darrell. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. The chamber rang with her shrieks.
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