Annabel seated herself in an easy chair and determined to wait for her sister’s return. “He wants me to have dinner at his parent’s house tonight,” still looking at a series of spots on the carpeting. Ain’t enough as I’ve got militiamen quartered on me this se’ennight, lazing about all day, eating me out of house and home and drinking my liquor into the bargain. Wood!—no," replied the turnkey. His shoulders relaxed and his gaze wavered. “Ssh!” said her mother, and then added, “A little natural feeling, dear. There is a musical programme, and we have the windows open and blinds up, and a pink lamp shade over the piano lamp—a sort of advertisement of the place, you know. How on earth does it concern you?” Annabel laughed hardly. “My friend,” she said, “no! Let me tell you this.
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