He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely. Anna raised her eyebrows at the sight of him. "You hear," pursued Jonathan; "my friend desires to know if you are willing to pay your footing as a member of the ancient and respectable fraternity of debtors?" "I owe no man a farthing, and my name shall never appear in any such rascally list," replied Wood angrily. The young man entered into a lively little war of words with a yellow-haired young person near the door. “Your name and address were upon an envelope found in the pocket of an Englishman who was brought here late last night suffering from serious injuries,” he said in a dry official tone. For a few days he was able to relegate his conscience to the background. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village.
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