Anna the Adventuress

"Certainly not!" she said deliberately.

He looked at her with an expression of comical despair.

"What have I done, Miss Pellissier?" he pleaded. "We were good friends

in Paris, weren't we? You made me all sorts of promises, we planned

no end of nice things, and then--without a word to any one you

disappeared. Now we meet again, and you will scarcely look at me. You

seem altogether altered, too. Upon my word--you are Miss Pellissier,

aren't you?"

"I certainly am," she admitted.

He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way.

"Of course!" he said. "You have changed somehow--and you certainly are

less friendly."

She laughed. After all, his was a pleasant face, and a pleasant voice,

and very likely Annabel had behaved badly.

"Perhaps," she said, "it is the London climate. It depresses one, you

know."

He nodded.

"You look more like your old self when you smile," he remarked. "But,

forgive me, you are tired. Won't you come and have some tea with me?

There is a new place in Bond Street," he hastened to say, "where

everything is very well done, and they give us music, if that is any

attraction to you."

She hesitated and looked for a moment straight into his eyes. He

certainly bore inspection. He was tall and straight, and his

expression was good.

"I will come--with pleasure," she said, "if you will promise to treat

me as a new acquaintance--not to refer to--Paris--at all."

"I promise," he answered heartily. "Allow me."

He took his place by her side, and they talked lightly of London, the

shops and people. They found a cosy little table in the tea-rooms, and

everything was delicious. Anna, with her marvellous capacity for

enjoyment, ate cakes and laughed, and forgot that she had had tea an

hour or so ago at an A.B.C., or that she had a care in the world.

"By-the-bye," he said, presently, "your sister was married to old

Ferringhall the other day, wasn't she? I saw the notice in the

papers."

Anna never flinched. But after the first shock came a warm glow of

relief. After all, it was what she had been praying for--and Annabel

could not have known her address.

"My sister and I," she said slowly, "have seen very little of each

other lately. I fancy that Sir John does not approve of me."

Ennison shrugged his shoulders.

"Sort of man who can see no further than his nose," he remarked

contemptuously. "Fearful old fogey! I can't imagine any sister of

yours putting up with him for a moment. I thought perhaps you were

staying with them, as you did not seem particularly anxious to

recognize your old friends."

Anna shook her head.

"No, I am alone," she answered.