And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. She spoke slowly. In a moment they were in the street outside. The sense of publicity, of people coming and going about them, kept them both unemotional. "Her blood be upon her own head, then," replied Rowland, sternly. ” She laughed heartily, and became as suddenly grave. Teaching the word of God to the recent cannibal, caring for the sick, storming the strongholds of the plague, adding his own private income to the pittance allowed him by the Society, and never seeing the angel that walked at his side! Something the girl knew nothing about; else Enschede was unbelievable. After quarter of an hour, she followed.
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