Sir John, who was standing outside, looked past him at the girl still sitting in the shadow. He looked fiercely and inquiringly from one to the other of his companions; but, though both of them were excessively frightened, neither appeared guilty. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. " "I don't care if he is," rejoined Thames, boldly. ” “That settles it. It does not matter to him either way.
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