It was Annabel who spoke. ‘That,’ he said stonily, ‘is yet another point over which we fell out. David Courtlaw. “Call me Annabel. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. There is something inconglomerate about us. For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one recalcitrant horse and leading another. By this time, Jonathan and the vast mob attending him, had come up, and the place was rendered almost as light as day by the links.
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