Spurlock had sensed what had gone completely over McClintock's head—that this was the playing of a soul in damnation. " "Ah!" shrieked Lady Trafford. Then she passed from the room on the arm of General Lord Charvill, chatting animatedly to him. ‘If you’ll have the goodness, missie, to move yourself out of the way,’ he said aggrievedly, ‘and let us at him, we might have a chance of doing just that. If you do not help me to read the riddle of yourself, Annabel, I think that very soon I shall be a candidate for the asylum. Perhaps her odd beauty—and that too was natural—stirred these thoughts into being. . As they kissed goodbye, she hoped that he felt the same reluctance to part.
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