"Help! help!" "You call in vain," returned Kneebone. Basically a kindly man but made cynical and derisive by sordid contacts, O'Higgins had almost forgotten that there was such a thing as unselfishness. "You've got him?" demanded Ireton. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. ‘Laisse-moi!’ Impatience swamped him. ” Annabel shivered a little and looked around her. Her whole face stiffened with suppressed anger.
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