“Annabel! God in Heaven, it is Annabel!” She did not speak. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. He haunted a state between hectic dreaming and mild delirium, and she found herself talking aloud to him. ’ ‘Pah! One little kiss, voilá tout. Too close, he reasoned, for safety. ’ ‘But you are not a surgeon,’ protested Melusine. ‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. Mr. ‘Oh, Lord,’ muttered Gerald, going instantly to her aid. Her aunt had secretly sent on to Ann Veronica some new warm underclothing, a dozen pairs of stockings, and her last winter’s jacket, but the dear lady had overlooked those boots.
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