Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. They sell only their talents, not their bodies; they are not girls of the street. I had to go at a moment’s notice. And the situation it makes!—the situation!” Thus Manning, egotistical, inconsecutive, unreal. The Times slipped from his fingers. A physiognomist, indeed, would have likened him to that crafty animal, and it must be owned the general formation of his features favoured such a comparison. “I might return the compliment, Courtlaw,” he answered, “by asking why the devil you come lurching on to the pavement like a drunken man. You don't want people to snub you later.
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