“You would have been treated differently in the Old World, the one where I came from. Then she dropped the curtain and stepped back into the room. . ” He left the room, and she stood motionless, with flaming cheeks, listening to his retreating footsteps. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. “Ever yours, “ANNABEL.
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