The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered. Quarter-staves, bludgeons, brown-bills, lanterns, swords, and sconces were alike shivered; and, to judge from the sullied state of their habiliments, the claret must have been tapped pretty freely. ” She said. “Very well,” said her father. Then fury claimed her and she could no longer pretend. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music.
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