“Sir John!” Annabel gasped. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. Part 3 The call Ann Veronica paid with her aunt that afternoon had at first much the same relation to the Widgett conversation that a plaster statue of Mr. 270 “Curse that boy!” He chuckled and stomped the water. ’ ‘Do you indeed?’ rejoined the old lady, twinkling at him, and urging him towards the door. I told her it was the end. I don’t mind telling you chaps that except on the stage I haven’t set eyes on her this side of the water. I don’t care what else there is in the world.
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