E. Miss Ellicot has spoken to you, the great Mr. “Annabel,” she said brusquely. ‘She ought to be. You are—or rather you were——” he corrected himself with an unpleasant little laugh, “Miss Pellissier, eh?” A little sensation followed upon his words. " "That is very kind of you," she acknowledged. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. Flowers, theatre boxes, carriages, the “open sesame” to the whole world of pleasure. His attitude was as different from Gianfrancesco’s as night was from day. Again, he would ask a few questions, and Ruth would answer them. At the recollection that it was his, she seemed to fall through a thin surface, as one might fall through the crust of a lava into glowing depths.
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