A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. That is why I ask you. There was something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her. Could she understand what she was talking about? Luckily it was a second-class carriage and the ordinary fellowtravellers were not there. They don’t know who did it, actually. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. Such apartments as she saw were either scandalously dirty or unaccountably dear, or both. Brother and Sister VIII. gutenberg.
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