CHAPTER VI. Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes. " "That is a far more agreeable one, I must confess," returned Kneebone, with a self-sufficient smirk. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. Doctor says depositions to-night. ’ ‘This, monsieur le major, is entirely your own affair,’ said the lady, haughty again.
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