It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. “Through there,” he said, and pointed with the pamphlet he was carrying. “It spreads like wildfire. On the second day out he was helped to a steamer-chair on deck; on the third day, his arm across Ruth's shoulder, he walked from his chair to the foremast and back. With an open hand, he slapped her face. There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner. Brown gushed conservatively about the orchestra, letting the audience know about the recording engineers and how proud he was of Martin Chen. To have sprung this upon them to-night would have been worth a thousand pounds. The little room was fragrant with flowers, Anna herself bright, and with all the evidences of well being.
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