McClintock's initial revulsion was natural; he was an honest man. The vestry door opened to the mews behind, and not to Golden Square. “It is rather odd,” he said, “but I always thought that your name was Annabel and hers Anna. The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure. ’ Her flesh crept. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now. When you send for me I shall come back. Even now she could trace the outline of his shape behind the left-hand curtain.
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