“It is, if anything, a little above the average,” Brendon admitted. From a bi-secting street came shouting and music. “She has been to my flat before. Originally built, as its name imports, in a cylindrical form, like a modern Martello tower, it had undergone, from time to time, so many alterations, that its symmetry was, in a great measure, destroyed. How on earth does it concern you?” Annabel laughed hardly. She looked up quickly. “Look here,” he said, protruding his eyes; “why get anything to do at all just yet? Why, if you must be free, why not do the sensible thing? Make yourself worth a decent freedom. “I will MAKE you love me! Until he has faded—faded into a memory.
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