“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. ” “Much better,” she agreed. But at the word “home” she turned again. It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. What was the name on those marriage lines you showed me?’ ‘M—Melusine,’ stammered the woman, her countenance yet registering shock. . “Ass!” he went on, still warming. ” “Can’t we go down into Italy?” “No,” he said; “it won’t run to that now. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood.
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