’ She fairly pushed at Gerald, who grinned and gave in, moving back to the still open door. “You must answer me, Annabel,” she continued. He sat up in his chair as though the question had stung him. About this time,—namely, in November, 1703— while young Trenchard was in Lancashire, and his sister in London, on a visit, he received a certain communication from his confidential servant, Davies, which, at once, destroyed his hopes. She tiptoed to the stand and gathered up the manuscripts which she carried to a chair by the window. A paralyzing horror was upon her. Looked like them statues of the Holy Mother I see about the place.
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