He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. A hollow feeling opened up inside her, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. Her husband finally relented. Only I do not care to write about anything else. He recognized the face instantly. He was wearing a new silk hat, with a slightly more generous brim than its predecessor, and it suited his type of face, robbed his dark eyes a little of their aggressiveness and gave him a solid and dignified and benevolent air.
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