Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. Tom Sheppard was always a close file, and would never tell whom he married. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. The ruffian's companions took his part. He was never known to err, and was as much dreaded as the jailfever in consequence. “You mean to follow her. And the fact that it was dressed in riding gear had fooled her into thinking it was her own image. He recognized the handwriting, and turned a shade paler.
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