“Annabel;” he moaned. I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's 'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. ” She laughed at him easily and mirthfully. ‘He is not in England, you understand. Her eyes travelled about the room as if in appeal to the very chairs. You, Anna, are one of them. Thanks. Brendon looked across the room at her thoughtfully. ‘But what is it that amuses you, Jacques?’ Kimble’s grin spread wider. The whole place had come to life, the magic seeped out of the walls. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. To think of him as loving her would make all that different.
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