All about her, hither and yon, lay the enticing Unknown. "Halloa!" cried Jack, looking round, and trying to fix his inebriate gaze upon the speaker,—"who's that?" "Your mother," replied Mrs. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. That was the glorious if bewildering truth. Surely he was imagining this picture. ’ Melusine rose from her chair in sudden irritation. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. It was among artistic people.
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