” “I am your friend,” he said slowly, “whatever you may have to tell me. The eyes, too, though large and bright, and shaded by long lashes, seemed to betoken, as hazel eyes generally do in men, a faithless and uncertain disposition. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. ‘One thing at a time, missie. “I know. I don’t know. Your sister! Great God, how like she is to what you were!” Annabel looked around her nervously.
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