My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. She held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder. He stood away from her. Something he saw there made him feel for a moment ashamed. "Your health, Kneebone. She was enchanted by the beauty of the other girls, who were magically transformed into fairies and elves by makeup into seemingly unfamiliar yet glamorous new people. Ann Veronica had come down thinking of nothing in the world but her inflexible resolution to go to the dance in the teeth of all opposition. Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. She sensed a pelvic exam coming on. She glanced at him. "How do I know you are a friend?" asked Darrell. "Gadzooks! I thought something was coming on; for when I looked at the weather-glass an hour ago, it had sunk lower than I ever remember it. Nothing stronger than water has passed my lips for years. But then—Oh! Madam, there are moments—moments of darkness, which overshadow a whole existence—in the lives of the poor houseless wretches who traverse the streets, when reason is well-nigh benighted; when the horrible promptings of despair can, alone, be listened to; and when vice itself assumes the aspect of virtue. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement.
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