Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. Ha! ha! What have I left but despair and madness? Promise me one thing, Mr. He believed me when I asked him to marry me. “What are you doing?” He cried. “Your little flag of pride must flutter down with the rest of them, Ann Veronica. Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. No—you shall come with me to Waterloo.
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