Wood uttered something like an imprecation. Manning questioned whether when they were bad they were really beautiful or when they were beautiful bad. He was also, had she known it, more than a little insincere. "Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "Forgive you—bless you!" she gasped. We WERE thieves. At least, you are one, and I am disguised like one. But when she turned her thoughts to Morningside Park she perceived the tangled skein of life was now to be further complicated by his romantic importunity. Things hung for a moment in an awkward silence. Some friends who saw us dining together persist in alluding to her as Miss Annabel Pellissier. The one fault, indeed, of this school of fiction for him was that it had rather a light way with parental rights. “Then I will do what I can,” Anna promised.
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