But it was hopelessly hard to put. Your sister! Great God, how like she is to what you were!” Annabel looked around her nervously. She had never felt so acutely the desire for free initiative, for a life unhampered by others. Here he was preparing to leap over the hedge into the fields on the left, when he was intercepted by two horsemen, who, hearing the shouts, rode up and struck at him with the butt-ends of their heavy riding-whips. Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote.
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