"See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. ” “There’s a sort of instinct of rebellion,” said Capes. Her hair was held back in a filigreed barrette. Look at the poor victim at your feet. “But you’re dating Mike now, and I’m dating John. But she does not resemble you in any other way. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. Except for the dull eyes and the extreme pallor of his face, there was nothing else to indicate that he was deep in liquor.
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