” “I thought Mr. I thank God for the beauty you love and the faults you love. He has nothing to fall back upon, no substitute; but a woman always has the mother love. I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. Now you can understand why I have been obliged to——” “Yes, yes, I understand that,” Courtlaw interrupted. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. "Stolen by a gipsy when scarcely five years old, Constance Trenchard, after various vicissitudes, was carried to London, where she lived in great poverty, with the dregs of society. "Because it's not like you," was her answer.
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