She walked back to the car. God must love me, for he has guided me here. “Cheer up, Annabel. Oh! and love—love! We’ve had so splendid a time, and fought our fight and won. To her chagrin, he ignored her, and turned a venomous eye on his betrothed. A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. This astute personage was somewhat under the middle size, but fairly proportioned, inclining rather to strength than symmetry, and abounding more in muscle than in flesh. What can she be? The wife of a country tradesman, or a duchess? And such a meek little husband too. “I have hurt my father,” she said; “I have hurt my aunt.
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