” Annabel clutched her sister’s hands. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. There is so little abandon, so little real joyousness. “I wonder if you give me a thought. " "It is too late," returned Jack, sullenly; "I can't be honest if I would. There was little fighting spirit here. “I have had nothing since, and it seems a very long time. " "Ha!" exclaimed Jack, drawing in his breath, and leaning forward with intense curiosity.
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