Sir James Thornhill, then, rose. I am afraid because I love you, so that the mere thought of failure hurts. ” She looked down on him thoughtfully, and he let his admiration of her free young poise show in his face. ” Annabel rose to her feet. “Tell me,” he said; “speak to me. ‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. Somebody may be on the watch—perhaps, that old ginger-hackled Jew. For the young, immortality must seem promising, even wonderful! The grass is always greener on the other side.
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