"I've seen him some years ago, I believe," answered Wood; "and, though he must be much changed by this time, I dare say I should know him again. I am aware that you ran away from there, but—’ ‘Certainly I ran away,’ she said, meeting his gaze with defiance in her own. It was Annabel who spoke. Austin was dismissing a host of inquirers who had been attracted thither by the news,—for it had already been extensively noised abroad. She did not have to investigate that his door was locked. I told her it was the end. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. “How old are you?” “Sixteen.
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