Yet he was in a state of hopeless bewilderment. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. Still, something had marked the face, something had left an indelible touch. "If Jack would come to my house, I'd contrive to hide him," remarked a buxom dame. Presently he turned to Courtlaw. Jack! Mon dieu, but he was unarmed. Her likeness to her sister gave him at first almost a shock; a moment afterwards he was conscious of a wonderful sense of relief. She pulled down her veil and made her way to the door. I am not angry with you, but with this—this—’ ‘Idiot? Imbecile?’ offered Gerald in a helpful tone.
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