’ ‘To you,’ she said angrily. “It is very good of you to come and see me, my dear sister,” Annabel remarked, throwing herself into a low chair, and clasping her hands over her head. She led him up the long hall solemnly. Only you good ones— shirk. ” She said. It was not for a week or a month. She was not Madame Melusine Valade. She made a few protests, a few excuses for her action in accepting him, a few lame explanations, but he did not heed them or care for them. It was empty. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. He was six blocks away from his home, a ten story building apparently made solely of glass. . ’ ‘Oui, mais—safe. I——” She threw herself into an easy chair.
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