“And yet I wonder whether the world ever held such another enigma in her sex. “Well——” She stopped short. 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. Anna, I listened to all that he had to say, and I called to him to let me get out. Wouldn't it be fun to see his name on a book-cover some day? He'll go strutting up and down without ever dreaming he owed the whole shot to us. He turned round to keep Anna out by force if possible, but he was too late. Nigel Ennison was he. Nothing but the publicity of the place and the recollection of that terrible constituency kept him from attempting some perfectly respectful but unmistakable evidence of his sympathy. Jeremiah Jackson and Mr.
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