This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. I’m glad you could come. . She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. Sebastian became furious and would have killed the man had he not been drafted into battle within the week. He pulled down a chair to her left. “You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. The tears flowed faster. She was perfectly aware that the boy had gotten some sort of bug in his craw over her despite her sloppy, strange appearance.
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