A wrathful God was watching him. “Don’t be childish, Annabel. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. Have you seen much of her lately?” “Nothing at all,” he answered. They were both dressed in every respect alike. "And I," muttered Jack. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. Beneath the hood it was evident that her rebellious hair was bound up with red silk, and fastened by some device in her ears (unless she had them pierced, which was too dreadful a thing to suppose!) were long brass filigree earrings. “No,” said her brother, conclusively, “it’s not for a parent to go on persuading a child.
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