“I’m not the Devil. Earles declared good-humouredly, “but I shall not let you go without drinking a glass of wine to our success. It was still profoundly dark; but the wind, which had begun to blow with some violence, chased the clouds rapidly across the heavens, and dispersed the vapours hanging nearer the earth. This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. “Come in here a moment, will you, Blanche,” he said. But you are Annabel. His mind was filled briefly with psychic images of a charnel house that danced like a spider in his head. A broken laugh followed the action. If he adhered to this policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of recollection.
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