Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. You need fear no interruption from him, or any of his myrmidons. “To the best of my belief, I have never seen the man in my life. Suppose her father turned her out of doors! She did not care, she meant to go. Well, I'd no idea," she continued, pursuing her ruminations as she left the room, "that people of quality laughed so. You've nothing to do but to take possession. She could not go to him with a preachment against strong drink; she knew from experience that such a plan would be wasted effort. CHAPTER XXVII. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order.
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