“Don’t!” she said, weakly, as he had bent down and put one arm about her and seized her hands with his disengaged hand and kissed her—kissed her almost upon her lips. ” He said. It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded. ” She threw away the end of her cigarette. He had not proceeded far when he was alarmed by the tramp of a horse, which seemed to be rapidly approaching, and he had scarcely time to leap the hedge and conceal himself behind a tree, when a tall man, enveloped in an ample cloak, with his hat pulled over his brows, rode by at full speed. Montague Hill, and I do not think that under those circumstances I should be long about it. It was bad luck to go to Canongate. A dozen books lay upon the counterpane.
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