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“—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. Part 3 The call Ann Veronica paid with her aunt that afternoon had at first much the same relation to the Widgett conversation that a plaster statue of Mr. Byrom,—a poet of whom his native town, Manchester, may be justly proud; and his features and figure have been preserved by the most illustrious of his companions on the present occasion,—Hogarth,—in the levée in the "Rake's Progress," and in "Southwark Fair. Her lips were dry and cracked. Why hadn't he admitted that he recognized the photograph? What instinct had impelled him swiftly to assume his Oriental mask? "Why?" asked O'Higgins. ” “I am convinced of it,” she answered. When they reached her rooms she stepped lightly out upon the pavement. Three times he uttered a phrase: "A djinn in a blue-serge coat!" And each time he would follow it with a chuckle—the chuckle of a soul in damnation. I thought—the papers said——” “You thought that I was dead,” he interrupted. " "That is to say, you wish you had let me die?" "That was the thought. ” Ennison at once seated himself.

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