They both listened intently. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. . Something in her voice and manner conveyed an effect of unwonted gravity to him. Wood, now more buxom and more gorgeously arrayed than ever,—as well as a young and beautiful female, in whom he was at no loss to recognise the carpenter's daughter. Fame of any sort was folly and she knew better. "Can't you see? I can't hurt her, if … if she cares! I can't tell her I'm a madman as well as a thief!… What a fool! What a fool!" A thief. During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers. It rather astonished him. He tried this sentence with expletives.
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