But I do not love you. ” “Yeah, I think she hates you, hon. Earles protested, seating himself before the desk, and dipping his pen in the ink. Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. She had underestimated his animal ability to sense weakness. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped.
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