Brute! Fool! To have come to her on such an errand. His attitude was as different from Gianfrancesco’s as night was from day. Behind every one of these myriad fronts she passed there must be a career or careers. Ennison,” she exclaimed, “is that really you?” There was no sign of embarrassment in her manner. What little happiness I had I was forced to steal. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. Her first impulse was to fly to the window; and she was about to pass through it, at the risk of sharing the fate of the unfortunate lady, when her arm was grasped by some one in the act of ascending the ladder from without.
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