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CHAPTER VII The astonishing collapse of Spurlock created a tableau of short duration. He’ll do. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. But this wild scheme was speedily abandoned; and, nerved by despair, the carpenter resolved to hazard an attempt, from the execution, almost from the contemplation, of which he had hitherto shrunk. “Was it really only this afternoon that I met you in St. As she approached, the carpenter's wife eyed her from head to foot, in the hope of finding something in her person or apparel to quarrel with. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. She loped forward on unnaturally long legs and arms that swung loosely.
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