“I wish. ’ You mean you hope you do, thought Gerald cynically. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. "What's that?" ejaculated the ruffian, glancing uneasily towards the window. A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. She was a woman now to the tips of her fingers; she had said good-bye to her girlhood in the old garden four years and a quarter ago. "No," replied Jack, peremptorily. “It’s just that he doesn’t seem like your type. "Ay, ay," rejoined Sheppard; "he may do what he pleases,—hang me, if he thinks proper,—if you wish it.
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