“Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. What had she so nearly said? She had almost spoken a name—and quickly withdrawn it. ” “Out with it, then,” he cried, almost roughly. “I haven’t a scrap—of this sort of aversion. There’s nothing happened at all!” She didn’t mean, he concluded, to give him any more trouble ever, and he was free to begin a fresh chromatic novel—he had just finished the Blue Lagoon, which he thought very beautiful and tender and absolutely irrelevant to Morningside Park—or work in peace at his microtome without bothering about her in the least. “How dare you!” They were both astonished at the other’s strength. A wrathful God was watching him.
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