“Anna,” he cried eagerly. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. Supposing she saw the young man at dinner that night, emptying his bottle? She could not go to him, sit down and draw the sordid pictures she had seen so often. He took her there on the cold, dirty floor, his nails digging into her back, his teeth sinking into her breasts. " This sally occasioned a general laugh. Miss Stanley had determined from the outset to have the warmest affection for her youngest niece and to be a second mother in her life—a second and a better one; but she had found much to battle with, and there was much in herself that Ann Veronica failed to understand. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. But you are Annabel.
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