” Chapter XXVI ANNABEL IS WARNED “You!” David Courtlaw crossed the floor of the dingy little sitting-room with outstretched hands. There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a halfemptied rummer before him,—there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return,—for he was almost past consciousness,—the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear. I’ve just seen him. He did his best not to grin. She awoke at 11:12 am, her foster sister snoring in the bed across the room. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. ’ Martha got up with a swish of her black habit. “That’s HIM,” said Ann Veronica, in sound, idiomatic English. Her tears dissipated as she began to convulse, completely devoid of any spare fluid. She did not hear his approach, but continued her occupation without raising her head. Ownership seemed only a reasonable return for the cares and expenses of a daughter’s upbringing.
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