Ennison himself, with the recollection of Annabel’s visit still fresh in his mind, was for a moment constrained and ill at ease. "It's better," observed Sheppard, meaningly. His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. “It was,” she admitted. "What was it?" He was insistent. He had not considered this aspect of the business. He left his office at 5:39 according to her watch. A quick flush stained her cheeks. Sheppard, sinking backwards upon the pallet. His efforts at self-destruction were, however, prevented.
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