Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. It was Annabel who spoke. The angels in Heaven shall not tear you from me. She pushed the former and it opened. So, while she watched, distressed and bewildered by her tumbling thoughts, the packet, Canton bound, ruffled the placid waters of the Pearl River. The latter formed by far the most knavish-looking and unprepossessing portion of the assemblage. Then they had released her arms and were trying to push her away. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room.
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