‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. Ennison kicked it away with his foot. “Anna! What tragedy has happened, little sister? No lights, no supper, no coffee —and, above all, no Mr. Wood, I command you not to stir," vociferated the carpenter's better-half; "recollect you'll be answerable to me. The door was then locked, and he was left alone. I am going up to dine with my sister. But,” and he faced them both with a still expressionless glance, “this is not the end!” Anna recovered her spirits with marvellous facility. Girls were instructed to wear white button down shirts and full length black skirts. By a tacit agreement they ignored the significant thing between them, ignored the slipping away of the ground on which they had stood together hitherto. So he shut his eyes. The kissing of the book struck her as particularly odd, and then the policemen gave their evidence in staccato jerks and stereotyped phrases. Tell me how you are earning your living here, Anna—typewriting, or painting, or lady’s companion?” “I think,” Anna said, “that the less you know about me the better.
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