" "You have no son," rejoined Sir Rowland, moodily. A long shrill cat-call in the gallery seemed to be the signal. But we were both pledged to secrecy, and I couldn’t reveal my part for fear that I would lose my place. During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword. She mentally resolved to do her best to avoid personal encounters with him in that instant. Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles. Her motherly features creased into anxious wrinkles. She winced as he thrust the fact at her, was about to answer, and checked herself. Besides, by the time they were off his hands, old McClintock would be dropping in to have his liver renovated. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. ‘That would have grieved Jarvis.
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