“Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. ‘Very well, arrest me. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. Think if your own mother was alive!” He paused, deeply moved. Well, my dear, it is time you stopped wallowing in your sorrows like a common wretch. You see me here, an admitted failure in the object to which I have devoted two years of my life. In any event, I brought her to the convent and we had her locked up separately, and told ’em both they’d be taken into custody as soon as Valade was fit to go. He could not tell by the look of her whether she was glad or sorry that presently she would be free. Please tell me what your terms are. You shall know the truth.
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