The man looked closely at Anna as she crossed the footway, and as he held her skirt from the wheel he pressed something into her hand. “I heard the clock strike as I crossed the square,” she answered. Only I wish—I wish to-day I was a thousand times, ten thousand times more beautiful. "It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. There was question in Gerald’s gaze as it met hers, and apology in his voice. ‘Me, I am Mademoiselle Charvill, the granddaughter of Monsieur Jar-vis Re-men-ham.
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