She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. ” He looked at her gravely. just furtive meetings. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. You are not with the Kent militia, are you?’ ‘West Kent, yes. She answered him almost coldly. 5. ’ ‘That I do not doubt,’ Gerald muttered drily, but added in a tone of intense satisfaction, ‘Then this husband is still in France? Excellent.
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