” Annabel pulled up her veil. Sheppard, anxiously. She spoke with an entirely false note of cheerful offhandedness. It was my destiny to have her. Much too formal for a cosy chat between old friends. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. "Shall I never see that sweet face again,—never feel the pressure of those kind hands more—nor listen to that gentle voice! Ah! yes, we shall meet again in Heaven, where I shall speedily join you. And she was about as capable of intelligent argument as a runaway steam-roller. To find the true father at the expense of the beautiful fairy tale Ruth had woven around the woman in the locket was an intolerable thought.
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