“That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. I am fairly well hardened in iniquity—your iniquity, Annabel—but I decline to have a husband thrust upon me. ‘And she’s—’ She broke off, a sudden light in her eyes. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. "Well, I won't dispute your judgment in such matters, Mr. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight. For nearly thirty years he had lived here in contented loneliness; then youth had to come and fill him with discontent. We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream.
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