She was a very elegant young woman, slightly taller perhaps than her sister, and with an air of reserved strength underneath her quiet face and manner which Annabel may have lacked. She looked steadfastly out. Her finger-nails dug into her flesh. "What's all this?" exclaimed Wood in amazement. “Where is my beautiful wife?” He bellowed from the downstairs. At nine o'clock, the sheriffs arrived, followed by their officers and javelin-men. “Well, I don’t want you to talk to him,” he said, very firmly. She walked over to them still carrying the trousers in her hands, and stooped to examine them. But this was long ago. She opened the door to him herself.
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