" "So it seems," observed the woollen-draper, "and for every one else, too. Come along, you mad jade. Take, if you please, your own pistol. Annabel saw it, and suddenly changed her tone. “Do you mean to say that you have been here ever since I came?” “I am afraid that I must confess it,” he answered. Moored to the steps, several wherries were dancing in the rushing current, as if impatient of restraint. Her heartbeat quickened. He was caressing an idea. She emerged with a white face and wide-open eyes upon a little, red-lit landing. "Aye—to pretend to her that you don't care. ‘Sergeant Trodger is who I am.
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