4. " "Not a farthing more, I assure you," rejoined Ireton, pettishly; "we're all on the square here. Do you know, Annabel, that you are my wife. . “Tell me,” she insisted, “why you look like that. It is the worst of talk under such social circumstances that it is always getting cut off so soon as it is beginning; and I went home that afternoon feeling I had said nothing—literally nothing—of the things I had meant to say to you and that were coursing through my head. She fluttered her eyelashes, and adopted the soulful tone that served her well at times.
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