“Can’t you believe me? I am Meysey Hill. We dine at seven-thirty. She got to the driveway and was semi-surprised to see that his car was gone. It was clear it must be to-morrow. “I HAVE—had one or two talks with him, daddy. Cast off this weakness. Ennison?” “He spoke to me, thinking that I was you,” Anna answered. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. “Can’t stop, thanks,” he answered. ’ ‘Oh, is he?’ Gerald said grimly. “We have to be— modern. A nurse came hurrying up.
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