A little within stood a second door, or rather wicket, lower than the first, but of equal strength, and surmounted by a row of sharp spikes. Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. “Idiots!” she said, when she heard this pandemonium, and with particular reference to this young lady with the throaty contralto next door. ’ For a moment or two there was dead silence in the parlour. “Dear me!” he said. "Long life to the Marquis!" reiterated Terence; "he's an honour to ould Ireland!" "Didn't I tell you how it would be?" remarked Quilt. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression. Something about the girl had suggested an idea.
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