She did not question or analyze the craving; she took the plunge joyously. The white veil had fallen to the ground and Gerald retrieved it for her. What she had termed illuminative now appeared to be only another phase of the mystery which enveloped the child. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. She interrupted. Tell the whole truth. What do you say to Brighton——” Anna looked at him quietly—and he never finished his sentence. " "And so Sir Rowland murdered his friend," remarked Wood. ” Annabel laughed hardly.
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