" "I'll tell you what. " "No. Don’t be frightened, dear. “You did not wish to see him particularly this evening, then?” Anna hesitated. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. “Why don’t they wait?” he added. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. Hill would have followed her, but Mrs. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. Anna was not “Alcide” of the “Ambassador’s,” whose subtly demure smile and piquant glances had called him to her side from the moment of their first meeting. She made no attempt to answer her sister’s question.
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