“The conventions do not matter one little bit. "What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. By this time, Jonathan and the vast mob attending him, had come up, and the place was rendered almost as light as day by the links. I said I’d do anything. And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend. If I might take the liberty, Sir John,” he added, with a humorous gleam in his eyes, “I should like to congratulate you upon your tie.
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