ed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an
adventurer upon the threshold.

Then a hansom drove up, and his heart gave a great leap. She stepped
on to the pavement almost before him, and his blood turned almost to
ice as he saw that she was not alone. A young man turned to pay the
cabman. Then she saw him.

"Mr. Ennison," she exclaimed, "is that really you?"

There was no sign of embarrassment in her manner. She held out her
hand frankly. She seemed honestly glad to see him.

"How odd that I should almost spring into your arms just on my
doorstep!" she remarked gaily. "Are you in a hurry? Will you come in
and have some coffee?"

He hesitated, and glanced towards her companion. He saw now that it
was merely a boy.

"This is Mr. Sydney Courtlaw--Mr. Ennison," she said. "You are coming
in, aren't you, Sydney?"

"If I may," he answered. "Your coffee's too good to refuse."

She led the way, talking all the time to Ennison.

"Do you know, I have been wondering what had become of you," she said.
"I had those beautiful roses from you on my first night, and a tiny
little note but no address. I did not even know where to write and
thank you."

"I have been abroad," he said. "The life of a private secretary is
positively one of slavery. I had to go at a moment's notice."

"I am glad that you have a reasonable excuse for not having been to
see me," she said good-humouredly. "Please make yourselves comfortable
while I see to the coffee."

It was a tiny little room, daintily furnished, individual in its
quaint colouring, and the masses of perfumed flowers set in strange
and unexpected places. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from
a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall. A jar
of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of
colour from the sombre curtains behind. Anna, who had thrown aside her
sealskin coat, wore a tight-fitting walking dress of some dark shade.
He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the
play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. A
woman indeed this to love and be loved, beautiful, graceful, gay. A
dreamy sense of content crept over him. The ambitions of his life, and
they were many, seemed to lie far away, broken up dreams in some
outside world where the way was rough and the sky always grey. A
little table covered with a damask cloth was dragged out. There were
cakes and sandwiches--f