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“I may not see the Widgetts for some little time, father,” she said. Then, mysteriously, he no longer smelled or tasted it. Is all that folly done with—for ever?” Annabel shivered ever so slightly. ‘That—that—why do you speak of him?’ ‘Because I feel you ought to know,’ Gerald said calmly, but rising and watching her closely, ‘that all your trouble may be in vain. “I don’t mind, of course, your seeing her sometimes, still there are differences— differences in social atmospheres. ’ ‘But he’s a major of militia, miss. Then her eyes flashed. Capes came back into her mind. What she said is true. And Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet.
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