She would compose extremely lucid and honorable explanations. Tell him the truth, Annabel. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. In this way, more than a month passed over. The lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back.
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