Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. 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. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. Anna lets the deception continue and has to bear the burden of her sister’s reputation which, in Paris at any rate, is that of being a coquette. ” “I thought I explained—” “I don’t think you can have heard me,” said her father; “I have told you to come home. "I was only commenting.
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