I love him as a brother. "It's all over," groaned Wood, "and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone. “I have always,” she admitted calmly, “taken a certain amount of interest in Annabel’s future. She had begun to care about her appearance again, looking into the glass he gave her, a thing nearly priceless that was bordered in intricate golden filigree and rubies. Despair engulfed her at the horrid remembrance that the one particular Englishman she knew to be sympathique did not at all wish to marry her. What our dear mother would say back home I dread to think. ‘As I said, a mistake.
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