Wood," she cried, as the staff fell from his grasp. Wood, ironically; "but I used to think it required something more than mere words to prove that a person's character was abused. Anna, do you not see that the Countess is sitting alone?” She rose, and flashed a quick smile upon Ennison behind her husband’s back. She saw her discarded nun’s habit still on the floor and scooped it up. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left.
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