" "It shall be, Sir," replied Ireton, bowing. Plote was sleeping or deaf. Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. ‘No, let me guess,’ he interrupted. Fate! You are so frank so splendid! “I’m taking this calmly now,” he said, almost as if he apologized, “because I’m a little stunned. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped.
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