" "I sha'n't want these curtains. ” Ennison hesitated for a moment. Before ever I knew you. She had called the police on them anonymously. But from the rest—you saved me. Not a scar but has its history. The Bed Room 400 XIX. I worshipped her and subdued myself. There was only one small grated window in this hold, which admitted but little light. It was a great relief to arrive at last at that pause when she could say to her aunt, “Now, dear?” and rise and hold back the curtain through the archway. A brief feeling of empathy with Pottiswick passed through him. “She has lost something,” he declared, “something which brought the men in crowds around the stage at the ‘Ambassador’s. ” “But I’m quite equal to taking care of myself, aunt. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds.
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