Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. By a miracle, he averted its path, his hold on the girl’s mouth shifting fast to grasp her wrist. Some had the dignity and the aloofness of a rock in the sea; and others were as the polished pebbles on the sands—one saw the difference of pebble from pebble only by close scrutiny. Only it was with a further and most unbelieving shrug of the shoulders that he resumed his seat. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. "Well?" he whispered. " Silence. ” “Why not?” She turned on him.
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