“Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. The youth with the hair brushed back and the spectacled Scotchman joined in the fray for and against the women’s vote. When he came to a certain sentence in Brendon’s letter he stopped short and looked up at her. On a small shelf near the foot of the bed stood a couple of empty phials, a cracked ewer and basin, a brown jug without a handle, a small tin coffee-pot without a spout, a saucer of rouge, a fragment of looking-glass, and a flask, labelled "Rosa Solis. " The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action.
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