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. Prepared as he was for a dreadful shock, and with his nerves strung to endure it, Jack absolutely recoiled before the appalling object that met his gaze. The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring. What he wanted desperately was to be alone. Wood is now in very affluent circumstances. What the devil is the matter, Dunster?” “I beg your pardon, sir,” the man answered, “there is a lady here to see you.
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