” Chapter III ANNA? OR ANNABEL? Sir John was wholly unable to understand the laugh and semi-ironical cheer which greeted his entrance to the smoking-room of the English Club on the following evening. "You can, of course, identify this picture as Lady Trafford's property?" pursued Jonathan, with a meaning glance, as he handed it to the knight. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. The thought of going back!—the thought of the unknown out there!—" with a tragic gesture toward the east. That’s the fact of the matter. She might scream until her voice failed; the natives would not come to her aid; they never meddled with the affairs of the whites. But, urged by his wife's cries, who was more anxious for the preservation of her child's life than her own, he snatched up the infant, and made his escape from the back of the premises.
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