“What ought you to do?” “I’ve hunted up all sorts of things. “For no other reason than you talk too much. Through her door curtain she could see the light from the study lamp. “And to think that it’s not a full year ago since I was a black-hearted rebel school-girl, distressed, puzzled, perplexed, not understanding that this great force of love was bursting its way through me! All those nameless discontents—they were no more than love’s birth-pangs. All the best novels have been written by women, and yet see how men sneer at the lady novelist still! There’s only one way to get on for a woman, and that is to please men. Wood's displeasure; and he was the more readily induced to do this, as the conversation began to turn upon his own affairs. He recognized the handwriting, and turned a shade paler. She winced as he thrust the fact at her, was about to answer, and checked herself. ’ She bit her lip, but her eyes betrayed her. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one.
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