A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. Anna thrust hers into her pocket unopened, and for the first time left the house without a smile upon her face. “I say!” he cried. She listened, listened intently for several minutes. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. . ’ ‘Gad, there is someone there,’ exclaimed Hilary beside him, shading his eyes with one hand. “Don’t be too sure of that,” she answered enigmatically.
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