All about her, hither and yon, lay the enticing Unknown. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then. You would not have the slightest difficulty. ” “Then, by God!” he said, “you’ll be locked up!” Ann Veronica was disconcerted for a moment. But in the train going home her aunt reasoned it out. At the sound of the door Ann Veronica uncovered a tearless face, and with one swift movement assumed a conversational attitude. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. “Your name, I believe, is——” “Pellissier,” Anna answered.
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