I was Annabel the rake, ‘Alcide’ of the music halls. A tinge of admiration rose in his breast. Will you take it in to him?” The young man smiled in a superior manner. Nothing like the direct approach, she thought. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. ’ ‘Will you indeed? Truly?’ His smile held so much tenderness, she was tempted to surrender at once. The babies that the woman—your wife—refused to stop creating.
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