That night a grave was dug in Willesden churchyard, next to that in which Mrs. It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value. “It was best for me to know. " "Good news will be news to me. ” The dinner was admirable as a dinner; nothing went wrong, from the golden and excellent clear soup to the delightful iced marrons and cream; and Miss Stanley’s praises died away to an appreciative acquiescence. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. Only in her eyes there seemed to be some apprehension of the fact that the young man’s clothes and manners were alike undesirable things. “I wonder,” he said, “is there anything we could do to help you to get rid of him?” “Can you think of anything?” Anna answered.
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