“Ferringhall, were you or were you not dining last night at a certain restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes with—la petite Pellissier?” Now indeed Sir John was moved. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. Indeed, almost insensibly Ann Veronica became habituated to the peculiar appearance and the peculiar manners of the people “in the van. “Dinner is served, ma’am,” he announced to Mrs. Her mouth was once more covered as they left the second floor guest saloon and headed for the back stairs. Was there no echo anywhere in Miss Stanley’s pacified brain? Those empty rooms, if they were empty, were the equivalents of astoundingly decorated predecessors. He was not particularly grateful for the present situation.
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