g all that she had
been through, had chosen to appear this evening rather than break her
engagement. He should never sufficiently be able to regret the return
which they had made to her. He begged their attention for the next
turn.

He had spoken impressively, and most likely Anna, had she reappeared,
would have met with a fair reception. She, however, had no idea of
doing anything of the sort. She dressed rapidly and left the theatre
without a word to any one. The whole incident was so unexpected that
neither Courtlaw nor Brendon were awaiting. The man who sat behind a
pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment
absent. Anna stood on the step and looked up and down the street for a
hansom. Suddenly she felt her wrist grasped by a strong hand. It was
Ennison, who loomed up through the shadows.

"Anna! Thank God I have found you at last. But you have not finished
surely. Your second turn is not over, is it?"

She laughed a little hardly. Even now she was dazed. The horror of
those few minutes was still with her.

"Have you not heard?" she said. "For me there is no second turn. I
have said good-bye to it all. They hissed me!"

"Beasts!" he muttered. "But was it wise to sing to-night?"

"Why not? The man was nothing to me."

"You have not seen the evening paper?"

"No. What about them?"

He called a hansom.

"They are full of the usual foolish stories. To-morrow they will all
be contradicted. To-night all London believes that he was your
husband."

"That is why they hissed me, then?"

"Of course. To-morrow they will know the truth."

She shivered.

"Is this hansom for me?" she said. "Thank you--and good-bye."

"I am coming with you," he said firmly.

She shook her head.

"Don't!" she begged.

"You are in trouble," he said. "No one has a better right than I to be
with you."

"You have no right at all," she answered coldly.

"I have the right of the man who loves you," he declared. "Some day
you will be my wife, and it would not be well for either of us to
remember that in these unhappy days you and I were separated."

Anna gave her address to the driver. She leaned back in the cab with
half-closed eyes.

"This is all madness," she declared wearily. "Do you think it is fair
of you to persecute me just now?"

"It is not persecution, Anna," he answered gently. "Only you are the
woman I love, and you are in trouble. And you are something of a
heroine, too. You see, my rid