"You have not seen your sister lately," he remarked. "I believe that

you would find her in some respects curiously altered. I have never in

my life been so much puzzled by any one as by your sister. Something

has changed her tremendously."

Annabel looked at him curiously.

"Do you mean in looks?" she asked.

"Not only that," he answered. "In Paris your sister appeared to me to

be a charming student of frivolity. Here she seems to have developed

into a brilliant woman with more character and steadfastness than I

should ever have given her credit for. Her features are the same, yet

the change has written its mark into her face. Do you know, Lady

Ferringhall, I am proud that your sister permits me to call myself her

friend."

"And in Paris----"

"In Paris," he interrupted, "she was a very delightful companion, but

beyond that--one did not take her seriously. I am not boring you, am

I?"

She raised her eyes to his and smiled into his face.

"You are not boring me," she said, "but I would rather talk of

something else. I suppose you will think me very unsisterly and

cold-hearted, but there are circumstances in connexion with my

sister's latest exploit which are intensely irritating both to my

husband and to myself."

He recognized the force, almost the passion, which trembled in her

tone, and he at once abandoned the subject. He remained talking with

her however. It was easy for him to see that she desired to be

agreeable to him. They talked lightly but confidentially until Sir

John approached them with a slight frown upon his face.

"Mr. Ennison," he said, "it is for you to cut in at Lady Angela's

table. Anna, do you not see that the Countess is sitting alone?"

She rose, and flashed a quick smile upon Ennison behind her husband's

back.

"You must come and see me some afternoon," she said to him.

He murmured his delight, and joined the bridge party, where he played

with less than his accustomed skill. On the way home he was still

thoughtful. He turned in at the club. They were talking of "Alcide,"

as they often did in those days.

"She has improved her style," someone declared. "Certainly her voice

is far more musical."

Another differed.

"She has lost something," he declared, "something which brought the

men in crowds around the stage at the 'Ambassador's.' I don't know what

you'd call it--a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. She sings

better perhaps. But I don't think she lays hold of one so."

"I will tell you what there is about her which is so fetching,"

Drummond, who was lounging by, declared. "She contrives somehow to

strike the personal note in an amazing manner. You are wedged in

amongst a crowd, perhaps in the promenade, you lean over the back, you

are almost out of sight. Yet you catch her eye--you can't seem to

escape from it. You feel that that smile is for you, the words are for

you, the whole song is for you. Naturally you shout yourself hoarse

when she has finished, and feel jolly pleased with yourself."




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024