Sir John, who was standing outside, looked past him at the girl still sitting in the shadow. ’ A question leapt into Everett’s head and he recalled the letter to the Abbess. “I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. He rose at once to his feet and turned a white face upon her. Before or after?” Lucy paled. The latter no sooner beheld him than he dashed hastily into an adjoining room. “Don’t!” she said, weakly, as he had bent down and put one arm about her and seized her hands with his disengaged hand and kissed her—kissed her almost upon her lips. “You, anyhow, don’t deserve it,” he said. .
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