Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. But if he's in bed, how the devil is he going with me, supposing I decide to hire him? The mudhook comes up to-morrow night. She could read that Martin had a crush on her and was perhaps even going to try and challenge John as he was the bold sort. A moment more and he would have been crushed beneath the ponderous board, when a slight but strong arm arrested its descent. It would put the whole adventure on a broader and better footing; it seemed, indeed, almost the only possible way in which she might emerge from her rebellion with anything like success.
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