” “I suppose not. “The truth!” It was a moment of awkwardness between the two sisters —a moment, too, charged with its own psychological interest, for there were secrets between them which for many months had made their intercourse a constrained and difficult thing. “I love you. Then he went back to his rooms and lit a cigar. She said that your mother was only fifteen when she went to live with them. She was curious to know why he had boarded a dingy train instead of hailing a cab or his own private chauffeur like the others in expensive suits were doing. Still unconscious of anything he did physically. I think not, Annabel. Show him no quarter, Poll. He looked at her in some embarrassment. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture.
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