“Annabel,” she said, “I have never asked you for your confidence. The eggs were all right, but nobody in this part of the world had the least conception of what the coffee bean was for. . I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. Still—” Then, with incredible and obviously deliberate stupidity, and a voice as flat as her own, he asked, “Who is the man?” Her spirit raged within her at the dumbness, the paralysis that had fallen upon her. The quiet encounter and home-coming Ann Veronica and she had contemplated was entirely disorganized by this misadventure; there were no adequate explanations, and after they had settled things at Ann Veronica’s lodgings, they reached home in the early afternoon estranged and depressed, with headaches and the trumpet voice of the indomitable Kitty Brett still ringing in their ears. Gossip was the driving force in Sheila’s existence. “I am bored,” she said abruptly. "We never suffer him to mention Mr.
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