” Annabel pulled up her veil. “Sir John is a man of the world,” her aunt answered coldly. ” He shook his head slowly, smiling mysteriously. I am certainly no ghost. ” “But, my dear Peter!” said Miss Stanley. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. She attempted by a sheer act of will to end the scene, to will herself out of it anywhere. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. She saw herself in very much Vivie’s position—managing something.
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