She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. “Then what did you do?” Lucy’s eyes leveled with her. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. “Annabel, I begin to see why you are here. Am I going to die?” “I am afraid that you are in a dangerous state,” Courtlaw answered gravely. There was a sharp knocking at the outside door. If the boy was legging it alone…. “Anna!” he exclaimed hoarsely. It is what I have done.
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