CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. Lucy sized up the girl. "Hush!" she said. "The sums lavished upon those people are perfectly disgraceful, and I should be enchanted to see them hooted from the stage. htm or 16215-h. Your pets are gone. Don’t take my word for it though.
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