"And if you are a millionaire like Drummond," someone remarked, "you

send round a note and ask her to come out to supper."

"In the present case," Drummond remarked, glancing across the room,

"Cheveney wouldn't permit it."

Ennison dropped the evening paper which he had been pretending to

read. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth.

"Cheveney wouldn't have anything to say about it, as it happens," he

remarked, a little grimly. "Ungracious little beast, I call her. I

don't mind telling you chaps that except on the stage I haven't set

eyes on her this side of the water. I've called half a dozen times at

her flat, and she won't see me. Rank ingratitude, I call it."

There was a shout of laughter. Drummond patted him on the shoulder.

"Never mind, old chap," he declared. "Let's hope your successor is

worthy of you."

"You fellows," Ennison said quietly, "are getting a little wild. I

have known Miss Pellissier as long as any of you perhaps, and I have

seen something of her since her arrival in London. I consider her a

very charming young woman--and I won't hear a word about Paris, for

there are things I don't understand about that, but I will stake my

word upon it that to-day Miss Pellissier is entitled not only to our

admiration, but to our respect. I firmly believe that she is as

straight as a die."

Ennison's voice shook a little. They were his friends, and they

recognized his unusual earnestness. Drummond, who had been about to

speak, refrained. Cheveney walked away with a shrug of the shoulders.

"I believe you are quite right so far as regards the present, at any

rate," someone remarked, from the depths of an easy chair. "You see,

her sister is married to Ferringhall, isn't she? and she herself must

be drawing no end of a good screw here. I always say that it's poverty

before everything that makes a girl skip the line."

Ennison escaped. He was afraid if he stayed that he would make a fool

of himself. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms.

On his way he made a slight divergence from the direct route and

paused for a moment outside the flat where Anna was now living. It was

nearly one o'clock; but there were lights still in all her windows.

Suddenly the door of the flat opened and closed. A man came out, and

walking recklessly, almost cannoned into Ennison. He mumbled an

apology and then stopped short.

"It's Ennison, isn't it?" he exclaimed. "What the devil are you doing

star-gazing here?"

Ennison looked at him in surprise.

"I might return the compliment, Courtlaw," he answered, "by asking why

the devil you come lurching on to the pavement like a drunken man."




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