"It convinced Mr. Earles that I was 'Alcide,'" Anna remarked quietly.
"We will convince him now to the contrary," Annabel answered.
Anna looked at her, startled.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
Annabel set her teeth hard, and turned fiercely towards Anna.
"It means that I have had enough of this slavery," she declared. "My
husband and all his friends are fools, and the life they lead is
impossible for me. It takes too many years to climb even a step in the
social ladder. I've had enough of it. I want my freedom."
"You mean to say," Anna said slowly, "that you are going to leave your
husband?"
"Yes."
"You are willing to give up your position, your beautiful houses, your
carriages and milliner's accounts to come back to Bohemianism?"
"Why not?" Annabel declared. "I am sick of it. It is dull--deadly
dull."
"And what about this man--Mr. Montague Hill?"
Annabel put her hand suddenly to her throat and steadied herself with
the back of a chair. She looked stealthily at Anna.
"You have succeeded a little too well in your personation," she said
bitterly, "to get rid very easily of Mr. Montague Hill. You are a
great deal more like what I was a few months ago than I am now."
Anna laughed softly.
"You propose, then," she remarked, "that I shall still be saddled with
a pseudo husband. I think not, Annabel. You are welcome to proclaim
yourself 'Alcide' if you will. I would even make over my engagement to
you, if Mr. Earles would permit. But I should certainly want to be rid
of Mr. Montague Hill, and I do not think that under those
circumstances I should be long about it."
Annabel sank suddenly into a chair. Her knees were trembling, her
whole frame was shaken with sobs.
"Anna," she moaned, "I am a jealous, ungrateful woman. But oh, how
weary I am! I know. If only--Anna, tell me," she broke off suddenly,
"how did you get to know Mr. Ennison?"
"He spoke to me, thinking that I was you," Anna answered. "I liked
him, and I never undeceived him."
"And he sat at my table," Annabel said bitterly, "and yet he did not
know me."
Anna glanced up.
"You must remember," she said, "that you yourself are responsible for
your altered looks."
"For the others," Annabel said tearfully, "that is well enough. But
for him----"
Something in her sister's tone startled Anna. She looked at her for a
moment fixedly. When she tried to speak she found it difficult. Her
voice seemed to come from a long way off.
"What do you mean, Annabel? You only knew Mr. Ennison slightly----"
There was a dead silence in the little room. Anna sat with the face of
a Sphinx--waiting. Annabel thought, and thought again.