ing that I was you," Anna answered. "I liked
him, and I never undeceived him."

"And he sat at my table," Annabel said bitterly, "and yet he did not
know me."

Anna glanced up.

"You must remember," she said, "that you yourself are responsible for
your altered looks."

"For the others," Annabel said tearfully, "that is well enough. But
for him----"

Something in her sister's tone startled Anna. She looked at her for a
moment fixedly. When she tried to speak she found it difficult. Her
voice seemed to come from a long way off.

"What do you mean, Annabel? You only knew Mr. Ennison slightly----"

There was a dead silence in the little room. Anna sat with the face of
a Sphinx--waiting. Annabel thought, and thought again.

"I knew Mr. Ennison better than I have ever told you," she said
slowly.

"Go on!"

"You know--in Paris they coupled my name with some one's--an
Englishman's. Nigel Ennison was he."

Anna stood up. Her cheeks were aflame. Her eyes were lit with
smouldering passion.

"Go on!" she commanded. "Let me know the truth."

Annabel looked down. It was hard to meet that gaze.

"Does he never speak to you of--of old times?" she faltered.

"Don't fence with me," Anna cried fiercely. "The truth!"

Annabel bent over her and whispered in her sister's ear.

_Chapter XXII_

AN OLD FOOL

Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. She was
wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John
would not be home for several hours at least.

"I am delighted to see you, Mr. Ennison," she said, letting her
fingers rest in his. "Do come and cheer me up. I am bored to
distraction."

He took a seat by her side. He was looking pale and ill. There were
shadows under his eyes. He returned her impressive greeting almost
mechanically.

"But you yourself," she exclaimed, glancing into his face, "you too
look tired. You poor man, what have you been doing to yourself?"

"Nothing except travelling all night," he answered. "I am just back
from Paris. I am bothered. I have come to you for sympathy, perhaps
for help."

"You may be sure of the one," she murmured. "The other too if it is
within my power."

"It is within yours--if anybody's," he answered. "It is about your
sister, Lady Ferringhall."

Annabel gave a little gasp. The colour slowly left her cheeks, the
lines of her mouth hardened. The change in her face was not a pleasant
one.

"About my sister," she repeat