"Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. Did I not say so, Hilary?’ Melusine’s glance shot across to the newcomer, and found a petite blonde standing there, very fashionably attired in a velvet mantel over an apple-green robe, the furred hood framing a face alive with mischief. She came quickly into the little parlour, which now seemed inordinately crowded, and coming up to Melusine, seized her hands in a warm clasp. ” He intoned. ” Ennison thought so too half an hour later, when having cut out from one of the bridge tables he settled down for a chat with Annabel. His thoughts, indeed, were too painful for utterance, and so acute were his feelings, that, for some time, they quite overcame him.
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