’ ‘What sort of “down on your luck”?’ asked Alderley. ’ ‘Ah, that was an affair altogether different,’ she explained and fluttered her long lashes at him. “No man can realize,” she said, “what that pit can be. He had conveyed it to her, not verbally, but by means of a letter, which seemed to her a singularly ignoble method of prohibition. “You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. She was very pretty. .
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