The female’s words caught at his attention, and he no longer heard what the young Poussaint girl was saying to him. Then began expostulations, preluded by a telegram and headed by her aunt. Did he track her? She was unaware if he did. . Here he halted; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense sign-board, displaying a gaudily-painted angel with expanded pinions and an olive-branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLENDRAPER. Anna and her escort exchanged glances. Their flitting hands were always touching. Even Blueskin looked on with anxiety. " The order was promptly obeyed. She laid her hand upon his arm. “Do you mind very much?” He shook his head.
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