“Ah, Vee,” he said, “that’s better! and kissed her back rather clumsily. She would have to leave very soon. That was the Frenchie, Valade, surely. “You were booked of course. "I think the natives saw you coming out of the lagoon, one dawn. Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared. She still kicked herself for it. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. She was civil, but she was obviously impatient to know his errand.
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