” Annabel looked intently into her glass. "I am coming to the point, Joan. It’s odd how little I know of him, and of how he feels and what he feels. ” “When?” “At tea. “You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently. “Sir John is a man of the world,” her aunt answered coldly. The knowledge breathed into her heart a satisfying warmth. Again the chalky pallor spread even to her lips, her eyes became lit with the old terror. “Had the pleasure of dining with you at the ‘Ambassador’s’ one night, before the show, you know—last September I think it was.
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