Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. Sheila’s own waif of a husband had objected to her airing the truth, he had even gotten the nerve to bring up the word divorce. If you can do any good with him, it's more than we can. Her roving eagerness was at all times shaded with shyness, reserve, repression. And you need not fear that I shall not give back the sword when I have finished using it. But it would serve. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered.
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