She dressed rapidly and left the theatre without a word to any one. ’ Gerald frowned. ” Annabel had been lying curled up on the lounge, the personification of graceful animal ease. "Why, Jack Sheppard, the notorious house-breaker,—him as has robbed half Lunnun, to be sure. She had no inkling of that insupportable wrong. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. I’m sorry. None this end.
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