She felt a storm of emotion surging up within her. Yet either the rest or the wine seemed already to have done him good. Annabel a murderess! It was not possible. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. He had done it. She was inclined to think that perhaps for a girl the converse of his method was the case; an older man, a man beyond the range of anything “nonsensical,” was, perhaps, the most interesting sort of friend one could meet. When the doctor came in—he had just finished his breakfast—O'Higgins rose and presented his card. But I suppose as I’ll have to wait until you can hear me to tell you again. ” She looked at him doubtfully.
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