She frowned and gripped her hands about her knees very tightly. Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared. " "Who cares if we do?" retorted Sheppard, with a look of defiance. " "Your husband?" "No. We men are like children. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. ” He put his hands on her shoulders and lowered her onto the flat surface of the picnic bench. ‘I’ll handle her better alone. The truth at once flashed across his mind.
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