" "Would you like to have me read to you?" He did not answer. " Sir Rowland, meantime, throw himself on his knees beside his sister, and, clasping her chilly fingers within his own, besought her forgiveness in the most passionate terms. He glanced at his watch. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. You will find it somewhere in that book. ‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands. She made a few protests, a few excuses for her action in accepting him, a few lame explanations, but he did not heed them or care for them.
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