Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared. "Ruth, you must not come and sit on the threshold. To-night we leave for Marseilles. I deserve pretty much what I’ve got. She was fiercely and bitterly jealous. “Nor am I now,” he answered. “Will you come round to the hospital?” he asked. She looked round wildly, as if seeking some source of help, as the boots halted at the front door and the shouting intensified.
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