What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. He had scarcely entered the arch, when the indraught was so violent, and the noise of the wind so dreadful and astounding, that he almost determined to relinquish the undertaking. The old-fashioned dress, with its series of ruffles and printed flowers, ballooned treacherously, revealing her well-turned leg in silk stockings, as it snapped against her body as a mould. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. A silver necklace enhanced the dusky beauty of her neck.
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