Annabel entered. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover. Anna, I listened to all that he had to say, and I called to him to let me get out. And in the vestry was the sword of monsieur le major. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. Annabel, I was lying. The sky was cloudless, effulgent blue. Having disposed of his steed and swallowed a glass of brandy, without taking any other refreshment, he threw himself on a couch, where he sank at once into a heavy slumber.
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