He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. “Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. The packets were hastily broken open; and, while Wood was absorbed in the perusal of the despatch addressed to him by Sir Rowland, Thames sought out, and found the letter which he had been prevented from finishing on the fatal night at Jonathan Wild's. The significance of the kiss was still obscure to her, though she had frequently encountered the word and act in the Old and New Testaments and latterly in novels.
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