On the one hand, she seemed to think plainly and simply, and would talk serenely and freely about topics that most women have been trained either to avoid or conceal; and on the other she was unconscious, or else she had an air of being unconscious—that was the riddle—to all sorts of personal applications that almost any girl or woman, one might have thought, would have made. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. "Jack!" she cried, raising her head. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. They chatted pleasantly as he drove around the neighborhood for a half an hour, then stopped by the Diedermayer house.
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