You are—or rather you were——” he corrected himself with an unpleasant little laugh, “Miss Pellissier, eh?” A little sensation followed upon his words. The cry was echoed by twenty different voices. The truth was impossible, indecent. The conversation turned towards the subject of the Diedermayer’s many European vacations. It seems that he was a sort of family friend of the Pellissiers, and it was the artist sister whom he was with. She was wan and white. Then she examined with curiosity some knick-knacks upon a small round table by her side. I next proceeded to Jenny Bunch's, the Ship, in Trig Lane—there I got the same answer. ” “Why not?” She turned on him. " At the sound of his voice every vestige of colour fled from Winifred's cheeks, and the work upon which she was engaged fell from her hand.
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