He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. Nothing that I desire to remember," replied Sheppard, sternly. ” She said. On the floor, underneath the sixth row desks, was an ashtray with a small black dot of blood on its blunt round corner.
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