You will have a bungalow to yourself," continued McClintock, "and your morning meal will be your own affair. “I went to Anna’s rooms because I felt that I must see her. This lover of yours—” “He doesn’t know!” cried Ann Veronica. ‘We will converse in your own tongue,’ he said in French as he led her away. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. Wood became sensible that he was not alone. Wood, sharply. Arrived at the audience-chamber, he set down the light upon a stand, threw open the door, and announced in a loud voice, but with the perfect intonation of the person he represented,—"Sir Rowland Trenchard.
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