Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly. ‘What do you mean to do with her?’ ‘Just keep her talking, that’s all,’ Gerald said quickly. Annabel turned on the electric light and made her way into the sitting-room. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy. “Yes. I've opened the case of books. We'll get those books into your room first. “I suppose things have changed?” she said. Gianfrancesco’s had curved differently and was darker. . “What nonsense is this? What raving! My dear child, you DO live, you DO exist! You have this home. The walls are too high, and the windows too stoutly barricaded in this quarter, to admit such a supposition. I have healed and I am still your wife!\" She looked at him desperately, his eyes illuminated by firelight. I had gone further than I meant to—with some Englishmen.
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