No, none at all. “Cheer up, Annabel. I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adoptive father—the carpenter Wood. The more haste, the worse speed—better the feet slip than the tongue. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. He was a manly man, free from any strong maternal strain, and he had loved his dark-eyed, dainty bright-colored, and active little wife with a real vein of passion in his sentiment. White. Hastily, he reached for the door. There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor. "I give you one minute for reflection. ” He threw open the door of the sitting-room and switched on the electric light.
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