The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash. She went out into the hall, where she met the Jedsons in their kimonos. I don’t classify. The road which wound by Westbourne Green, gave him a full view of the hill of Hampstead with its church, its crest of houses, and its villas peeping from out the trees. Where her husband saw only two youngsters in the mating mood, she felt that tragedy in some phase lurked in this room—if only in the loneliness of these two, without kith or kin apparently, thousands of miles from home. “Annabel,” she said brusquely.
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