The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround. “Too much sensibility and too cold a heart. Ask your own conscience. Anna sent her away. ‘Wait! No time for that. Will you be a faithful and honest wife? Will you do your duty by him, and forget all your past follies? Unless, Annabel, you can——” “Oh, I will pledge you my word,” Annabel cried passionately, “my solemn word. ’ ‘Eh bien, what then?’ Emile sidled closer. He fancied that when they had had time to reflect, they would regret it still more. That was the glorious if bewildering truth. And always they were well satisfied. That is what marriage is to most young women: the ultimate escape from the family, from the unwritten laws that govern children. "And now," cried Jack, leaping up, "for an achievement, compared with which all I have yet done shall be as nothing!" CHAPTER XVII. She turned a resolute face southward.
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