Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. “And of course you are my niece just as Annabel is, although I am sorry to learn that your conduct has been much less discreet than hers. He said daring things with a grace which made them irresistible, his eyes flashed back upon her some eloquent but silent appreciation of the change in her manner towards him. ‘Rather thought I’d have to disarm you when you heard of it. We’re different. “Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said.
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