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“But what are you going to do?” asked Hetty. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. 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. But how to avail himself of it was the question, for in his present garb he was sure to be recognised. “It was only yesterday I had your letter, and you never mentioned coming over. After all, it was really rather funny. She refused to eat.
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