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“I have not the least idea who he is. He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own. He turned to observe what this object was that had so unexpectedly diverted the young man's attention. ‘This, as you see, is an identity for your cousin, André Valade. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. Her aunt returned before the packing was done, and Ann Veronica lunched with an uneasy sense of bag and hold-all packed up-stairs and inadequately hidden from chance intruders by the valance of the bed. —'How so?' says I. ” “May I ask,” Anna said softly, “what you presume to have been the nature of my errand here this evening?” Sir John pointed to Annabel, who was as yet utterly limp. But, as this produced no effect, and did not even elicit a groan, the prisoner was carried back to Newgate. Third period was Art, where they sat side by side at a table and carved linoleum for block prints together. Here, where every element of her surroundings was tawdry and commonplace, and before this young man of vulgar origin and appearance, it was striking. Then the distant relationship to Miss Stanley gave them a slight but pleasant sense of proprietorship in the girl. “Silly!” he remarked after a pause.

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