His reputation was slightly tainted by his marriage to her mother, an exotic blue-eyed raven-haired beauty, a Gypsy doll with a clandestine heritage. I felt—wrapped in thick cobwebs. What ho! lights! lights!" And, shouting as he went, he flung himself down stairs. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. Annabel believed it, came to England and married Sir John.
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