” “You are not yourself to-night, Courtlaw,” Ennison said. “You wish me to stay?” he asked, in a low tone. It was a great relief to arrive at last at that pause when she could say to her aunt, “Now, dear?” and rise and hold back the curtain through the archway. Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name of a river, not a Christian. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. That last year in Paris, when Annabel and she had lived in different worlds, had often been a nightmare to her.
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