The dinner was stranger than she had ever anticipated. The packets were hastily broken open; and, while Wood was absorbed in the perusal of the despatch addressed to him by Sir Rowland, Thames sought out, and found the letter which he had been prevented from finishing on the fatal night at Jonathan Wild's. “Annabel! God in Heaven, it is Annabel!” She did not speak. “Compromise—and kindness. Anna did not pause, but she looked over her shoulder with slightly lifted eyebrows. Her own pack was so light that she left it in the locker. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. They crossed the Channel in sunshine and a breeze that just ruffled the sea to glittering scales of silver. A creeping numbness invaded her.
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