Ennison kicked it away with his foot. He was no Hoddy, but a tremendous man, with hairy arms and bearded face and drink-shattered intellect. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. Wild himself if I met him," retorted Jack. There is the key. Three a week is my allowance, and, if I get short ones, four. She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America.
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