She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered. No one spoke, and she was impelled to flounder on. Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. "Do you compare your love—a love which all may purchase—with hers? No one has ever loved me. ” Chapter XXVI ANNABEL IS WARNED “You!” David Courtlaw crossed the floor of the dingy little sitting-room with outstretched hands. See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once.
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