The thought of Capes flooded her being like long-veiled sunlight breaking again through clouds. “Annabel?” he exclaimed. “You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. " "Thames Ditton—is that your name?" "No," replied the boy, impatiently; "Darrell—Thames Darrell. For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one recalcitrant horse and leading another.
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