” He said. " "I am not unprotected," rejoined the poor woman; "there's some one at the window. Had to. Ennison started and looked anxiously at Anna. What had happened to it? She had broken it, certainly. Her eyes were fixed upon the ground, the pink colour coming and going in her cheeks was very delicate and girlish. The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. Her knees almost sank beneath her as she raised the latch of the front door and looked out. Who were you looking for tonight? One of the émigrés? There were several in there. And what did she do? Not only did she cut his hand in her rage, but she refused to let him help her, and then she ran away from him. She will sail, at early dawn to-morrow, for Rotterdam. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard.
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