"No, no, Sir," replied Ireton. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. “I know nothing whatever of his friends or his home. ” Annabel, who was looking very well, and who was most becomingly dressed, moved to a seat from which she could command a view of the road outside. But after all, what did it matter whether she had secrets or not? To him she was not a woman but a symbol; and one did not investigate the antecedents of symbols. ‘Sapristi,’ he gasped. The body of the edifice stood on the south side of Newgate Street, and projected at the western extremity far into the area opposite Saint Sepulchre's Church. They had been playing tennis, with his manifest intention looming over her. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she panted, shifting wildly in his hold, so that he had all to do to keep her thus imprisoned. “Annabel!” she exclaimed.
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