Annabel, come to the door with me,” she added a little abruptly. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. “Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. " "There's some one in the garden at this moment," cried Jack; "I saw a face at the window. Not even for Ruth could he do such a beastly thing. Traci was the most grateful, because he stopped his sexual advances.
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