How dare you use my name and sing my songs?” Anna looked at her sister in blank amazement. "Some one must have assisted him. It was surely odd that her thought should pick up that picture and recast it so vividly. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. ‘Tell me about the convent? Were you happy there? They were kind to you, the nuns?’ ‘Oh, but yes. ‘And why not?’ ‘Because,’ Gerald said matter of factly, ‘convent-bred jeune demoiselles do not commonly know how to handle either pistols or daggers. “You are positively eloquent to-night—both of you,” she declared. “It is a great art,” she said in broken English. Eight per cent.
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