“It is very good of you to come and see me, my dear sister,” Annabel remarked, throwing herself into a low chair, and clasping her hands over her head. “To tell you the truth, I am a little dull.”
“Where is your husband?” Anna asked.
“He is addressing a meeting of his constituents somewhere,” Annabel answered. “I do not suppose he will be home till late. Tell me how are you amusing yourself?”
Anna laughed.
“I have been amusing myself up to now by trying to earn my living,” she replied.
“I hope,” Annabel answered lazily, “that you have succeeded. By-the-bye, do you want any money? Sir John’s ideas of pin money are not exactly princely, but I can manage what you want, I dare say.”
“Thank you,” Anna answered coldly. “I am not in need of any. I might add that in any case I should not touch Sir John’s.”
“That’s rather a pity,” Annabel said. “He wants to settle something on you, I believe. It is really amusing. He lives in constant dread of a reappearance of ‘La Belle Alcide,’ and hearing it said that she is his wife’s sister. Bit priggish, isn’t it? And if he only knew it—so absurd. Tell me how you are earning your living here, Anna—typewriting, or painting, or lady’s companion?”
“I think,” Anna said, “that the less you know about me the better. Is all your house on the same scale of magnificence as this, Annabel?” she asked, looking round.
Annabel shook her head.