Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared. She laid her hand upon his arm. She hesitated about her name, and, being prompted, gave it at last as Ann Veronica Smith, 107A, Chancery Lane. It was not a hard face, but it was resolute. But though the breach was large enough to admit him below, he could not squeeze his bulky person through the aperture into the Red Room. "What can it matter to you whether he returns or not, child," rejoined Mrs. Her eye met his four inches away, and his was glaring, immense, and full of resolution, a stupendous monster of an eye. A disconcerting gray eye that had a mystifying depth.
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