‘Pray you, mademoiselle, can you not—’ ‘No use trying to enlist Lucilla’s aid,’ snapped Roding. . . Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom. Ramage stood up, and suddenly turned the key in the door in an off-hand manner. As she came in this morning she saw that the lamp was still burning in the study; so she stopped at the door. And, besides, she didn’t just immediately want to make her attempt. Annabel, tell me that you did not wish me dead. “I heard nothing,” he declared, “and my ears are good. Then he turned on his heel and walked off. “God in Heaven, Annabel!” he cried. You should have confided in me, and fallen in with my plan at the beginning. He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face. But I had to know for sure.
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