Even now she could trace the outline of his shape behind the left-hand curtain. Either it was an unfortunate recovery of a trail, or he had followed her from Mayfair. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. Crossing them, he ascended an eminence, which, from its singular shape, seems to have been the site of a Roman encampment, and which commands a magnificent prospect. Do you know anything of his friends? Is there any one for whom we ought to send?” “I know very little of him beyond his name,” Anna answered. I had no idea you were not the happiest girl. Or else he was indeed obsessed.
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