” He looked at her intensely, his dark eyes deepened with sleeplessness. Remember ——” Annabel clutched her sister’s arm. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. Half an hour's labour, during which he was obliged more than once to pause to regain breath, sufficed to make a hole wide enough to allow a passage for his arm up to the elbow. ” “I MUST talk with you.
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