” “Dear me,” Anna laughed, “how unfortunate! What ought I to do? Should I be forgiven, do you think, if I were to go and hold that skein of wool for the old lady in the yellow cap?” “Don’t speak of her irreverently,” Brendon said, in an awed whisper. Langley is getting up, and coming this way. Surely she could ignore him. The clever hostess having let fall that several distinguished guests from France would be present, the world had flocked to her doors to catch, like the gossip-hungry vultures they were, a glimpse of them. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. Kneebone's house, the young man hastened to a hotel in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, where, having procured a horse, he shaped his course towards the west end of the town. Courtlaw,” Anna said, “and my solicitors, Messrs. ‘It is excessively important that the horse comes with us. Woof! What a dog. She has even found them accommodation in the house where she is putting up herself. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. Ennison stood by her side. I often think of those delightful evenings in Paris. Again silence.
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