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Once in the room, the door locked, the sense of loneliness had dropped away from her as the mists used to drop away from the mountain in the morning. ” “It is Number 8, Cavendish Square,” she answered simply. “Don’t come nearer!” she said. The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park. Anna was sitting before the fire a little distance from him—Ennison himself remained standing. ‘Ah, yes,’ Gerald said, jumping down from the coach and waiting for the fellow to let down the steps for Melusine, ‘I had forgotten about you. ’ A sudden frown sprang to the fellow’s face. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear.
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