Was there ever such madness?” “I am afraid that I don’t understand,” Ennison answered. “Look here, daddy,” she said, in a tone of great reasonableness, “I MUST go to that dance, you know. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. I’ve never had these crying fits before. I want to love him. Only how had they missed him? Were they imbecile? Or perhaps the mists had concealed him from them. Edgeworth Bess wore a scarlet tabby negligée,—a sort of undress, or sack, then much in vogue,—which suited her to admiration, and upon her head had what was called a fly-cap, with richly-laced lappets. I am no exception. Her gratitude swelled within her.
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