“You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. He touched it again, and this time it was not withdrawn. There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings. But she doesn’t and won’t divorce me. Wood, popping her head through the window. ’ ‘I don’t want to think it,’ he said, and she thrilled to the savagery in his tone. ” She paused. It did seem in so many ways exactly what Ramage said it was—the sensible thing to do. “Please don’t be sad. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. ” He walked from his door frame to stand nearer to her.
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