‘Eh bien?’ ‘You are perfectly right, Melusine. ” Ann Veronica made a sympathetic little murmur. The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell. She was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneliness to-night she distrusted. In the grate were some charred fragments of a marriage certificate. They had asked her to come to the first of the two great annual Fadden Dances, the October one, and Ann Veronica had accepted with enthusiasm. ‘You heard Gosse—I mean, the man you know as Valade?’ ‘Clear as day, miss,’ he uttered. CHAPTER XII.
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