And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. “It is unimportant,” she said. “This wonderful affection of yours for my sister, does it date from your first meeting with her in Paris?” He hesitated. “I’m a big boy, you know. I wrenched this off, and in an envelope addressed to me in faded ink, I found the locket and the pearls. Perhaps the boys had already faced off and he had missed it, he thought sourly. Still he had a decent look, and decidedly the air of one well-to-do in the world. I want to shout! I want to sing! I am glad! I am glad to be alive because you are alive! I am glad to be a woman because you are a man! I am glad! I am glad! I am glad! I thank God for life and you. Stanley. “Don’t think so,” Drummond answered.
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