g
into mischief? Oh, you girls--always the same story, a man or a
milliner, and the poor old father to get you out of it. What is it this
time--Paquin or Worth? Don't mind me, Anna. I can always live in a
cottage on a pound a week. The doctor says I should be the better for
it. Perhaps I should. Half the complaints we suffer from are just 'too
much.' Think that over and add it up. You look very pale, my girl.
You're not ill, are you?"

The sudden change of tone occurred as Anna advanced into the light and
seated herself in the bow-window overlooking the rose garden. She wore a
delicate skirt of pink satin below a superb gown of chiffon and real
lace. A single pink rose decorated her fine black hair which she had
coiled upon her neck to betray a shapely contour of dazzlingly white
skin beneath it. Her jewels were few but remarkable. The pearls about
her neck had been called bronze in tint and were perfect in their shape.
She carried a diamond bracelet upon her right arm, and its glitter
flashed about her as a radiant spirit of the riches whose emblems she
wore. The pallor of her face was in keeping with the picture. The wild
black eyes seemed alight with all the fires of tragedy unconfessed.

"I am not ill, father," she said, "but there is something about which I
must speak to you."

"Yes, yes, Anna--of course. And this is neither Paquin nor Worth, it
appears. Oh, you little rogue. To come to me like this--to come to your
poor old father and bring him a son-in-law for dinner. Ha, ha,--I'll
remember that--a son-in-law to dinner. Well, I sha'n't eat him, Anna, if
he's all right. It wouldn't be Alban Kennedy now?"

He became serious in an instant, putting the question as though his
favor depended upon her answer in the negative. Anna, however, quite
ignored the suggestion when she replied.

"I came to speak to you about Ascot, father--"

"About Ascot--who's Ascot?"

"The races at Ascot. I ran a horse there and lost five thousand pounds."

"What--you lost--come, Anna, my dear child--you lost--think of it
again--you lost fifty pounds? And who the devil took you there, I want
to know--who's been playing the fool? I don't agree with young girls
betting. I'll have none of that sort of thing in this house. Just tell
him so--whoever he is. I'll have none of it, and if it's that--"

He broke off at the words, arrested in his banter by the sudden memory
of a name. As in a flash he perceived the truth. The man Forrest was a