That Mr. Now, will you do me the honour of lunching with me, Miss Pellissier?” Anna hesitated. “I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. The coach in which the prisoner had been conveyed was already broken to pieces, and the driver was glad to escape with life. She clasped her hands over her mouth in a silent scream. ‘Oh, peste,’ she cried out in distressed tones. The curtain tinkled as her head brushed it, but he neither saw nor heard.
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