The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger. “The next question, Miss Anna,” he said, “is how am I to help you? I am wholly at your disposal. F. Gerald did not know who she was, but he knew who she was not. Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. "And the next time Captain Darrell wants a witness, I promise you he shan't look for one in vain. He recoiled from the sting. ‘Where the devil have you been?’ ‘Consorting with a nun in the gardens. He turned. .
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