Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. Glad to escape from the scene of recrimination that ensued between his adopted parents, Thames seized the earliest opportunity of retiring, and took his way to a small chamber in the upper part of the house, where he and Jack were accustomed to spend most of their leisure in the amusements, or pursuits, proper to their years. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. Spurlock was invariably at the high desk in the early morning, poring over ledgers, and giving the beach and the stores an occasional glance. "All right," he said.
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