Just my room. "What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. Perhaps, as you say, I do not really care—but I cannot do it. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means. ” Ennison thought so too half an hour later, when having cut out from one of the bridge tables he settled down for a chat with Annabel. . I hate myself!” She collapsed to the floor, sobbing.
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