"Speak, or I fire!" "Well, if you will have it, it's Sir Rowland Trenchard. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. Death belongs to God, young man. The little room was fragrant with flowers, Anna herself bright, and with all the evidences of well being. "That depends upon you. The Ferringhalls are of course without any pretence at family, but Sir John is a very rich man, and will be able to give Annabel a very enviable position in the world. Both ladies were on easy and friendly terms with all that was best in Morningside Park society; they had an afternoon once a month that was quite well attended, they sometimes gave musical evenings, they dined out and gave a finish to people’s dinners, they had a full-sized croquet lawn and tennis beyond, and understood the art of bringing people together. "Impossible!" exclaimed the widow, wildly. Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly. “I suppose you’ll come to the point soon—if there is one. “Hullo!” Courtlaw, haggard, his deep-set eyes more brilliant than ever, took Anna’s hand into his, and breathed a little close drawn sigh of content. ” “Fame!” “Isn’t it? ‘I’ve not seen your play, Mr. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. ” “And you?” asked David Courtlaw. Her sense followed the shoulders under his coat, down to where his flexible, sensitive-looking hand rested lightly upon the table.
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