"My portrait!" echoed Jack. There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. Might we ask you if you have ever seen him, if you knew him at all before this evening?” She stood up suddenly, and turning her back to them, looked steadily out of the window. ’ She released the pistol which lay in her lap and gestured expressively with her hands. ‘Cousin? But I am a fool. ‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint.
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