“Annabel!” she exclaimed. It’s a sort of guarantee of confidence. “See you to-night, I suppose?” He sauntered off. "I told you that before," rejoined Wood, testily. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand.
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